


The Nature of Moonlight

by Dulcinea



Series: Universe 6 Saga [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Parts, Bottom Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fictional Religion & Theology, First Time, Goku learns Saiyan things, M/M, Mating Rituals, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Original Character(s), Original Saiyans, Planet Sadala, Romance, Saiyan Lore, Slight GoChi, Slight VegBul, Slow Burn, Smut in the later parts, Top Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Vegeta learns feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 152,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: Goku and Vegeta finally go to Planet Sadala. Set after the Moro arc in the manga.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: Universe 6 Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066706
Comments: 280
Kudos: 225
Collections: Baby Buu’s Favs





	1. Chapter 1

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday. Whis delivered it personally to Vegeta in the middle of a spar with Goku. He held in his gloved hands a scroll of parchment, preserved in place with a blood red wax seal. The insignia on it wasn’t much different from the one Vegeta once proudly displayed on his battle armor as a child. A small semicircle with sharp edges framed the bottom of it, followed by a small line leading north, two thick lines resting in the middle, equally distanced from each other. The similarities ended there though. Where 3 arrows would form a strong V, they now shaped a perfect S, presenting the illusion they created an infinity symbol.

Without even opening it, Vegeta knew what this letter meant, and most importantly, who it came from. He hesitated for a moment, holding it in both hands, staring at the insignia. A memory hit him hard, of his father receiving letters just like this, of sending letters exactly like this, watching the King of Vegeta write into the late hours of the night, dipping his golden-tipped pen in dark ink, performing art as he brushed his arm up and down the desk—a type of penmanship and stylistic choice that his father only chose to do for the most important of dignitaries. Otherwise, he wrote with whatever was convenient.

Vegeta pushed a finger under the wax seal.

The letter unfurled.

He pulled it apart with both of his hands. If they were shaky, he didn’t outwardly acknowledge it.

Only two lines, written in deep black ink, rested on the parchment—words written with the flourish and the immaculate precision that looked eerily similar to his father’s.

Goku, of course, chose that moment to peek over Vegeta’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

Vegeta ignored him and deciphered the Sadalan words in front of him.

A poke to his side. “Vegeta? What’s it say?”

He looked ahead, out into the distance of the Earth’s blue sky, the white clouds, and he grinned from ear-to-ear.

Twenty four hours. That was all Vegeta needed to prepare for the journey. First priority was to respond in kind to the invitation. He used the parchment itself to reply, his penmanship nowhere near as immaculate as the King of Sadala’s. It had been much too long since he wrote in his native language, the complex symbols and confusing syntax nearly transforming Vegeta’s resolve to clear-cut doubt. He wasn’t writing anything complicated. It was a simple reply, a two word answer, but it mattered how long and short he drew the lines, how much time he spent resting his pen to create dots, how fast and light the slashes appeared on the paper as he brushed his pen across the parchment. Any seasoned royal would know so much about the person just by the way they wrote before they even met in person, a wise advantage to harness when they didn’t know the other party. That was what his father taught him, and he assumed the King of Sadala would be no different. But he managed well and repressed the need to double check, to redo, by immediately handing the parchment back to Whis and saying, “Here.”

The second priority: ensure Bulma and his children would be fine without him there. Without much prompting, Whis promised to stay on the planet under the pretense of that protection. Pretense, because Vegeta knew his teacher and Beerus well. The lure of Earthling food was all the incentive they needed.

Third, final and begrudgingly needed priority: convince Kakarot to come with him as well. By any means necessary.

“But I can’t go,” Kakarot said on the eve of receiving that invitation. They chatted in front of Goku’s home on Mt. Paozu, standing outside the home as the smell and sounds of Chichi’s homemade cooking drifted out into the world. “I need to take care of our crops. Our harvest is coming up and Chichi can’t do it by herself.”

“The King requested us both.”

“You can reply back saying I can’t come, you know.”

“I already accepted, for both of us.”

Goku groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. Shook his head. “Of course you did.”

“These are our people, Kakarot. I know you might not care about that, but—” He stepped closer. “The thought of meeting stronger fighters, like those from the Tournament of Power… that has to be intriguing enough. No?”

He smirked at the sight of Goku’s small smile and far away gaze. _Gotcha._

The morning of their departure, Vegeta lingered in the bathroom for a moment, staring at his reflection, at the modified armor that his human wife created for him, based on the army he once served, under the rule and thumb of the tyrant that wiped out his entire race. No Galactic Patrol symbol rested over the left side of his breast plate now.

If things were different—if he somehow possessed his father’s old pendant, his red cloak, any piece of his father’s formal armor—he would feel better prepared, more at ease. Of course, there was gi he could wear, or some Earthling clothing, like that three piece suit Bulma bought him a while ago. None of it was as appropriate as Vegeta needed it to be. He saw what Cabba and the other Sadalans wore, and this armor, as much of a mockery as it was to his race, was as close as it got. Appearance meant everything to royalty. The first impression mattered as much as the initially reply, if not more, because you weren’t representing the royal family when you stepped foot into another realm, another kingdom. You represented your people as a whole. It was yet another lesson Vegeta took the heart from his father and it weighed upon him the longer he stared at himself.

He eyed the empty spot where the Galactic Patrol symbol once laid. His hand drifted over it, lingering for a moment.

_Maybe…_

Vegeta anticipated a no. Worse still, a mockery of a laugh from Whis _along_ with a no, when he arrived in front of the travel cube that would take them to Sadala and offered his teacher a piece of paper.

Whis took it and looked it over. Looked at Vegeta. Rose his eyebrows.

He cleared his throat, thankful Kakarot wasn’t there yet and asked: “If you could put that… right here.” He indicated the empty spot on his breast plate.

To his surprise, Whis said nothing. He just smiled and raised his staff, aimed it at the exact place Vegeta pointed to. A small flash of bluish light, and the royal crest of the House of Vegeta appeared piece by piece, revealing itself like a blooming welt on white flesh. Bright and blood red, pristine and clean, like it always existed on Vegeta’s armor. Like it was meant to be.

Vegeta rested his palm over the crest. Gentle heat rose from it, through his gloved hand.

He didn’t fight the small smile that rose on his lips.

When he looked up, Whis nodded to him and stepped to the side, gesturing to the opened door of the cube. “Your chariot awaits, Prince Vegeta.”

Despite the joke of those words and the mirth in Whis’s voice, Vegeta noticed the unabashed sincerity in them. He felt heat rise on his cheeks and he let loose a soft “tch,” looking off to the side as he walked to the vehicle.

Goku, of course, showed up late. Astoundingly late, with barely any bags packed, wearing his bright orange gi and a few donuts stuffed in his mouth. Vegeta didn’t have to reprimand the man though. Beerus had no problem doing that for him, yelling at him to get inside or _else_ , and Goku yelped in between his chews, scrambling for the door.

The ride there was uneventful, albeit noisy in the beginning because of Goku’s constant chatter and incessant amount of questions. Before the first hour was up, Beerus, again, silenced Goku with ease. Vegeta meditated for most of the three hour ride there, grateful that Goku did the same, only breaking to eat from the food capsule Bulma handed him before they left. His mind stayed blank majority of the trip, until they grew closer to their final destination.

Then, his mind wandered to the past. Images of his father, the ruthless King Vegeta, sitting on the throne, delegating to other royal family members, ordering First Class soldiers, listening to his advisors. Images of his mother, the cold-hearted Queen Cassava, lecturing him in Saiyan history, Saiyan culture, effective diplomacy and hand-to-hand combat. Images of Planet Vegeta’s reddish-orange sky at peak evening, the burgundy sheets and black curtains in his opulent bedroom, all the massive feasts, all the bloody fights.

The cries of the morning avians the day he was given away to Frieza. The soft kiss his mother planted to his forehead—one of the very few times she ever gave him that type of affection. The strong grip his father laid on his shoulder and squeezed hard—as hard as the look his father gave him, this long, lingering look that stayed with Vegeta to this day.

Then their words. The sound of his father’s voice, telling him he was a prince, and always would be, no matter what, and to remember that well. His mother’s voice, demanding him to remember his lessons, to never forget where he came from, and to always strive to be the best, to be the strongest. Their pride in him, instilled into him the moment he left the nursing pod, galvanized and intensified the day he left the planet.

Their words clashed against their looks, though. His parents spoke of strength and pride and being at ease with this decision. He only saw regret on their faces. Regret, fear, and the tiniest, smallest hint of hope. It confused him. These weaknesses, this vulnerability and grief, in his _parents_ , of all people. It took years for him to realize what they were trying to convey to him, in their gazes, in their touches, and it took sacrificing his own life against Buu to even accept it.

Vegeta pressed his right fist over the crest on his breast plate.

_Na’ma. Ja’ta._

He squeezed his fingers tighter.

 _I will bring honor to our name_.

Then, Whis announced: “We’re here.”

Vegeta opened his eyes.

The blue-violet portal dissipated.

His eyes widened, his lips parting. The light of the golden planet before them reflected off of him, the silhouette of it resting in the darkness of his eyes.

He stood to his feet, his hands raising against his will to rest up against the cube’s translucent wall. And in that moment, he thought he was a child again, seeing the planet through the red window of his pod, shrinking in the distance. Except this time, the planet grew in size as they zoomed closer to it.

Goku’s voice sounded almost underwater to him. “Oh man, awesome! Look at that, Vegeta!”

So did Beerus’s. “Hn. Smaller than the other one, it seems.”

They breeched the atmosphere, entering it and revealing a surface so eerily similar to Planet Vegeta’s. Rocks upon rocks of different shapes and sizes forming domed homes and clay adobes, high mountains where snow gathered at its peak, empty fields of soil and dirt and the occasional, bountiful bursts of green, and the part that caused Vegeta’s throat to close up: thousands upon thousands of Saiyans, alive and well, performing whatever duty they needed. Working in fields, transporting goods, butchering meat, selling in market bazaars, sparring inside chalk-lined rings, bartering and trading for goods. All different shapes and sizes of Saiyan, everywhere, prosperous, living.

Occasionally a few looked up at their vehicle, pausing in their work as they casted a heavy shadow on the land. Vegeta met each and every gaze. Every Saiyan, dressed in Sadalan armor, Sadalan clothing. Some frowned. The rest looked upon them in awe and confusion. _This is how they looked on our last day_ , and he pushed away the thought, the image of his parents, his people, staring at the ball of light Frieza threw at them, and focused on the planet below them, the _living_ people beneath him.

Goku shouted, “Look, Vegeta!” Still sounded underwater. “That’s gotta be the palace, right?”

He glanced up. His breath caught in his throat.

The palace. The heart of the kingdom.

It was an _exact_ carbon copy of his very own.

Long spires reached for the sky, twisting and turning, each one varying in height and width. Stained glass windows, depicting famous heroes of lore and the gods and goddess of Sadalan faith, reflected off the sunlight, glittering colors like a wild kaleidoscope. Even the palace’s walls looked the exact same, from the color, down to the brick work at the base of each tower, each hall, each room.

As they landed, he noticed two rows of soldiers lined the pathway waiting patiently for them, which lead out towards the palace’s gigantic double doors. Two soldiers stood in front of those doors, arms crossed in an X, each holding what looked like daggers in their hands, their heads covered in large helmets with rows of spikes lining the head. All were dressed in white and gold Sadalan armor, ornate swords latched to their hips, with two equally ornate spears secured onto their backs. Vegeta had seen this type of greeting only once as a child, and judging by the regimental stance and seriousness of these Saiyans, he knew who they were. _The Royal Guard,_ he thought. The first and last line of defense for the royal family, consisting of the best that their planet had offered.

The cube landed without a sound. Whis opened the door and walked down and out first, followed by Beerus. They each stood on either side, framing the doorway.

Goku, of course, had no problems getting out of the cube. He landed on the ramp, swung his lone bag over his shoulder and saluted with his free hand against his forehead. “Yo!”

No solider moved or replied.

His hand flopped back to his side. “Uhh…” He tilted his head. “Hello?”

Again, nothing.

He turned back to them. “Is something wrong with them?”

Whis chuckled. “Yes, Goku, they’re fine.”

“They’re just waiting for the guest of honor,” Beerus said, glancing to Vegeta, still inside the cube. Vegeta pulled away from the wall finally as he met Beerus’s gaze—and nearly tripped when he saw Beerus step fully to the side and gestured to the pathway. “Well?”

Vegeta stared out ahead, beyond the rows of Saiyans, right at the palace doors. He swallowed, finding nothing but a dry mouth and an irritated, upset stomach. He knelt down, grabbed two of his bags in both hands and walked forward.

Each step forward to the door felt like he was dragging himself through mud. It wasn’t fear that dragged him down, nor was it sadness. It was pure, unadulterated disbelief that this was actually happening, all mixed with the warring emotions and flood of memories that bogged him down with each step.

He ignored Goku’s confused stare, Whis’s clear amusement, Beerus’s growing irritation as he exited out the cube, down the pathway. He came to a stop three soldiers in and dropped his bags to his side. Cleared his throat. Gripped his hands into tight, shaking fists. Muttered a quick, silent prayer that he didn’t have the worst accent in the world and shouted:

“M’eh Vegeta, ve’osa ve’ho’ti kosana’or inplathi Vegeta!” _I am Vegeta, crown prince of the planet Vegeta!_ He pressed one of his fists to his chest, right over his clan symbol. “M’eh kangela abapulhini omkul Ve’ho Sadala!” _I seek an audience with the great King Sadala!_ He shut his eyes as he bowed his head to the palace doors. “Uzko du Soli! Tor vuma uthi’ho!” _Glory to Soli! Tor be praised!_ He ignored Goku’s sharp gasp behind him as he knelt down to one knee. “V’ila ko’shi Ve’ho!”

He smirked when the soldiers rose their swords to the air and replied as one: “ _V’ila ko’shi Ve’ho!_ ” _Long live the king._

Vegeta stayed in place as he heard the palace doors creak open, didn’t move as he heard Goku mutter aloud “is that him?” and his subsequent _oof_. A part of him wanted to look behind when he heard the rustling of clothing, the sound of knees hitting pavement and Goku’s indignant mutters of disobedience and insolence, but he focused instead on the clicks of sharp heels on pavement—clicks that came closer and closer, increasing in volume, until those clicks stopped and the tips of two white boots appeared in Vegeta’s vision.

The sharp sound of swords returning to their sheaths cut through the silence. Soft wind brushed against Vegeta’s forehead.

Rustling clothes. The body before him crouched down.

A guttural voice above him commanded his attention. “Vu tu’eyakho, Saiyan.” _On your feet, Saiyan._ A gloved hand thrusted itself then into his line of sight. “Yi li a’ri inda h’wove.” _This is no place for royalty._

Vegeta looked up.

A carbon copy of himself looked back at him, with some noticeable differences. Two sharp, deep fringes framed the front of his face. There were not as many developed muscles. Darker skin. Kindlier eyes. Little to no signs of a hard won, hard fought life. But Vegeta was perceptive. There was a cold, calculating killer underneath that could rise, but only if the time called for it.

He pulled his hand away from his breast plate to clasp the King of Sadala’s outstretched hand, allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet by him.

They stood at eye-level, holding onto their mutual grip.

Then, the King smiled. “Ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” He squeezed harder and said in a whisper: “Wakale pu’e.”

Vegeta blinked away the sudden blurriness that hit his vision.

_Welcome home._

He swallowed, gripped just as hard in return and said in a low, throaty voice, “D’in m’yo, Ve’ho Sadala.” _Thank you, King Sadala._

The King nodded, releasing their grip. He leaned to the side, looking over Vegeta’s shoulder. “And a fine hello to you as well, Goku. Welcome to Planet Sadala.”

Vegeta didn’t need to look behind him to see the clownish smile on that man’s face. “Thanks!” Could even hear that damn scratch behind Goku’s head, that old nervous twitch of his. “I was beginning to think I’d need a translator the whole time, heh heh!”

“If it was deemed necessary, we would’ve prepared for it. As King, it’s imperative my guests feel welcomed on our planet. Speaking of…” The King walked past Vegeta and Goku right to Whis and Beerus, falling to one knee in front of the latter. “My humblest thanks and deepest gratitude, Lord Beerus, for bestowing your heavenly presence on our planet.”

“Hnn.” Beerus sniffed, twisting his head to the side. Grunted.

“My Lord thanks you for your hospitality,” Whis answered. “We have high hopes there will be one of those delicious Saiyan feasts his brother Champa spoke of.”

Goku’s eyebrows shot up. He opened his mouth, the word “food” on his lips, only to squeak out an “ _ouch!_ ” when Vegeta pinched his shoulder. He glared at him, ready to say something, but Vegeta held his finger to his lips, shaking his head no.

The King nodded, rising to his feet. “It will be ready by sun down. Until then, you are welcome to enjoy the palace at your leisure. Partake in any fruit in our gardens. If there’s a specific request, our cooks will make it for you. Whatever you wish, Lord Beerus, it is yours. If it isn’t, I will take full responsibility for the insult of providing inferior service and work hard to repay this injustice.”

Beerus smirked. “A polite Saiyan royal. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“They are quite different from ours, my Lord,” Whis said.

Goku attempted to interrupt, but Vegeta pinched his arm again, harder. He jerked his arm away, holding it to his chest as he glared at him, mouthing the words “ _stop it_ ” _._ Vegeta didn’t bother saying anything back.

“I’m humbled by your words, Lord Beerus.” King Sadala bowed his head one more time before turning to one of the guards in line. “Escort our two esteemed guests to our finest room available and aid them with whatever they need.”

The guard nodded, saluting the King with the traditional one-fist salute over his breast plate. He turned to Beerus and Whis. “This way, please.”

As the three left, the King returned his attention to Vegeta and Goku. “I’m sure your journey was a long one, so I would not be surprised if you sought needed time to rest.”

Vegeta cut Goku off the second he saw the man’s mouth open. “We do, King Sadala. We appreciate your hospi—”

“But _Vegeta_ , I wanna fight!”

“ _Kakarot_ —”

“If we can’t eat now because there’s a banquet later, that’s fine, but I came to fight! You said it yourself that there would be lots of crazy strong fighters here, right? So I wanna meet them!” He turned to the King. “How ‘bout it? You wanna spar?”

The two rows of soldiers gawked at Goku. One of them almost stumbled in place.

King Sadala looked more surprised than his royal guard did.

Vegeta simply closed his eyes. Inhaled. Long, long pause. Very drawn out, very loud exhale, through his nose.

Goku looked at Vegeta. At the soldiers. The King. Back to Vegeta. Then the King.

“What?”

Vegeta muttered, “Moron.”

“What? He’s the King, he’s gotta be strong, right?”

He glared right at Goku, hissing through his teeth, “ _Stop. Talking_.”

“But—”

They paused at the loud guffaw the King released. As one, they looked at him, watched him throw his head back, a hand on his belly, the other in his hair, laughing so hard he seemed to be one step away from falling backwards. The rows of soldiers as well seemed less stunned, more amused, most likely assured by the reaction of their King that this was okay.

Once the King calmed himself, he came to Goku, shaking his head. “Cabba was spot-on about you, Goku.” He clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Very well. Let us sate your lust for combat.” He turned to another row of soldiers, gesturing two over to him. “Take our guest to the _ambuwa gumisou_. I’m sure the cubs will give him a run for his money, or at least wear him out.”

“Yes, my King,” the soldiers said in tandem, saluting as one.

“Alright!” Goku grabbed his bag better as he followed the two soldiers to the opposite area of where Beerus and Whis exited. “Thank you King! See ya later, Vegeta!” He waved over his shoulder before looking at the two soldiers that flanked both of his sides and landed a barrage of questions on them.

Vegeta watched him leave, a big part of him relieved the man would be out of his hair for a while. Especially when he knew full well what was to happen next, based on the words of the King’s invitation—the command in there, from one royal to the other, to appear before him, because he needed answers only Vegeta could give. None of this would Goku be able to understand without pestering for more answers. Plus, the last thing Vegeta needed was Goku’s concern or curiosity.

What sickened and annoyed him the most was the fact that he almost, _almost_ wanted Goku to be there with him, not for moral support, not for back up in case things went south. Vegeta was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. It was for the fact that this was going to address questions even Vegeta had, and it would be beneficial for Goku to learn as much as he knew he was going to.

As Goku’s bright orange form disappeared into the distance, the King stood right next to Vegeta, shoulder to shoulder. “Cabba told me he’s the strongest of your race.”

Vegeta snorted. “Dumbest, really.”

“Did he forget his programming and protocols?”

“Hit on the head as a kid. Everything’s wiped.”

“Ah.” Goku left their line of sight. Then the King said: “A shame. I hoped he would give me some additional insight.”

Vegeta glanced to his side, right at the King. “I will be enough.”

The gentle, amiable demeanor of King Sadala perished in one sharp glare sent his direction. Again, Vegeta found his own reflection staring right back at him—the prideful, meticulous, calculating, blood thirsty warrior he knew himself to be—and held firm at the dread that shot down his spine.

“It better, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” He turned fully around, walking to the palace doors. “Rada nge m’yo.” _Come with me._

Vegeta hesitated for a small moment before he followed.

***

It didn’t take long arriving to the King’s personal chambers, a room that reminded Vegeta all too well of his father’s. He stood in the middle of it while the King busied himself creating a drink—an _mdala_ , a cocktail of two strong alcohols, _bron’ti_ and _ulukakara_ , with a slice of a citrus peel and chilled crystals gathered from the darkest, coldest caves on the planet. Vegeta rejected a drink of his own and waited in the thick silence of the room, holding his gloved hands behind him, resting them on the small of his back.

The initial invitation Vegeta received was simple enough. _Ta’fr’utu_ , it started out, the word being a double entendre for ‘fellow Saiyan’ as well as ‘brother,’ _m’eh mema t’au kun’ye’ba Goku elhabati Sadala ngo busku olona su’fru—_ I invite you and your companion Goku to the world of Sadala on the eve of our holiest of days. Those words caused no worry in Vegeta at all. But the last line did. _M’eh t’ui cril kubulawa t’au buhlanga—_ I need to know about the genocide of your race. Common sense said the King was curious about what led to the end of the Saiyans of Universe 7. But something about the words, the phrasing, seemed off just enough to put Vegeta on edge.

He watched the King stir the cocktail with a long, golden stick, the crystals clinking against the translucent glass.

King Sadala tapped the stick against the rim, resting it on the marble table in front of him. He swirled the drink in his hand once, twice, the gold rings on his fingers twinkling in the waning sunlight.

“Tell me.” He glanced over the rim of his drink. “What do you know of the story of your Planet Sadala?”

The question caught Vegeta off for a second. He watched the King take a seat in a plush, blood red chair with gold trimmings, taking a long, generous sip of his drink, gaze never wavering.

He fought against his dry throat, kept his composure as he spoke. “My great grandfather, Vegeta the First, worked alongside Sadala, until he could no longer. They had warring ideologies which led to great unrest among their people. This unrest led to a bloody civil war between Saiyans. Either you were for Sadala, or you were for Vegeta the First. The war only ended when my great grandfather slayed the old King. But it was at a high cost. Our home world was destroyed. We could not live off the land anymore. So we left and found Planet Plant, reclaiming it under the family of Vegeta.”

The King pulled his drink away from his lips, the liquid already halfway gone. “And what do you know of your universe’s King Sadala?”

“Nothing. Only that we defeated him.”

“Do you know how he was defeated?”

“Barely. I don’t remember every detail. They’re old memories. But I remember the two met on a sacred battlefield, where they performed ritual combat. My father said it was never meant to be invoked, but for the sake of the Saiyan race and its future, the two warriors came to an agreement to do this. What that ritual combat entailed, I don’t know.” He frowned as a strong memory hit him—a history book in front of him, his mother’s finger pointing to text, beside a crudely drawn image of his great-grandfather. “I do remember one thing though.” He could see it in front of him now, as clear as ever, his mother’s finger gliding across the page to the opposite end. “Before the two entered ritual combat, they needed to agree on would be first to choose a weapon. I don’t remember how they did this, but I remember what the outcome was.” His mother’s finger stabbed like a dagger into the opposite page, right over the other picture in his book—an equally crude, old picture of his world’s Sadala. “King Sadala went first.”

He startled at the sound of the King’s glass hitting the marble table.

Vegeta composed himself, watching the King glare at the glass. Opened his fingers. Closed them again, tighter than before.

“He went first,” the King muttered.

Vegeta nodded.

King Sadala then tipped his head back, downing the rest of the alcohol. He rested it back on the table, slunk into his seat—and to Vegeta’s surprise, a small smile appeared on his face.

“Figures.” He wiped at his face, coming to his feet.

Vegeta watched him walk to a large desk, resting his palms on top of them. He followed the King’s line of sight, and caught the reflection of the man in front of him in an old, decrepit black-and-white image, framed in gold and quartz. There were noticeable differences: a thick beard, more of a larger torso, no fringe bangs framing his face.

“When Cabba first told me about your universe and the fate of your Saiyans, I felt zero pity. In our culture, the clan of Vegeta’s considered the worst of us all. Even to this day, we teach our young ones how to never act like your ancestors, to value what my great-grandfather embodied. Protect, not destroy. Peace, never war. We fight for the weak and give mercy first before we act upon our baser instincts to kill.

“As much as I abhorred the idea of inviting you to our world, I had to know if my suspicions about these other Saiyans were true. I had to know that despite our universes being ‘twins’ of each other, there was nothing that connected us—and that quite frankly, your Saiyan race had it coming. Being exterminated, wiped off the face of the universe, all a miniscule piece of the retribution you deserved to endure, because of what you did to your own kind. Well, what I assumed you did to your own kind.

“Now that I know your side of the story, as little as it is…” He bowed his head. “It pains me to know that I am not as right as I wanted to be.” The King pushed away from the table, turning to Vegeta. “I do believe you when you say you don’t know the full story. You were a child when your planet was eradicated. So it is only fair and fitting that you know the story, at least in the way we tell it in our universe. Considering our worlds are twins, and based on the information you’ve told me, I believe our story will match yours.

“Once, when our planet was young and we Saiyans still sought our purpose in the universe, there were two warriors: Vegeta the Great, and Sadala the Brave. They each represented the best of the Saiyan race. Pride, power, courage, the insatiable need to fight, and the absolute will to push through insane odds, no matter what. But as well as they worked together on the battlefield, protecting their fellow Saiyans from outside invaders and conquerors, they fought against each other all the time. Sadala believed in the good of all things and chose mercy over cruelty. Vegeta believed in the worst of all things and chose punishment over compassion. They truly were the perfect balance to each other.

“Soon, Saiyans began to take sides, supporting either Vegeta’s philosophy or Sadala’s philosophy. This led to the Great Civil War you know of. We too tell the same tale of the end of the war, how the two warriors laid down their weapons to engage in ritual combat instead. They both agreed to meet on the land where the first Super Saiyan God existed, a land blessed by Soli himself. There, the mates of each great warrior stripped their love one bare of clothing, of weapons and of their power.” He paused at Vegeta’s visible gasp. “Yes. Their very own power.”

“Forced Spirit Fission.” Vegeta shook his head. “But I learned this on Yardrat. It’s a Yardratian technique. Saiyans never knew these techniques.”

“It’s a spirit technique, yes, but the Yardrats do not have a monopoly on magic manipulation. Your Saiyans most likely erased concepts like the spirit out of your culture and education because your great-grandfather didn’t believe in it. But we kept ours strong and healthy. No Saiyan on Sadala enters our Defense Forces unless they know the basics of magic control, just as our ancestors before us, because we know from our history how powerful and humbling it is.” The King turned away to gaze out the window. “These mates of Vegeta and Sadala made the ultimate sacrifice. They held their loved one’s power, harnessed it as their own, and had to resist the temptation to not return it until one warrior yielded the other. In this case, one was able to give it back to their beloved, while the other had to let that power go into the ether.”

Vegeta watched the King rest a hand over the juncture of his neck. “The last of the essence of their mate, their most beloved, and they had to let it go, as ritual demanded. The ultimate sacrifice, for the good of our world and our future.” The King’s hand squeezed hard. “I sincerely hope your world revered mates as much as we do.”

Vegeta licked his dry lips, searching for his voice. It came out low, raspy. “I don’t think we had them. Maybe we did once, but…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You probably didn’t get a chance to know, considering your great-grandfather.” The King pulled his hand away, back to his side. “Mating has such strong ties to magic, so it was probably erased from your history like the rest.”

“Perhaps…” Vegeta shook his head. “Wait.” He refocused and took a step closer to the back of the King. “You said you were right, I’m assuming about how my world was.” He took another step. “What were you wrong about?”

The King sighed. “Our universes.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that mirrored Vegeta’s usual stance. “We truly are twins. There really is not much of a difference between us. Only in the way of thinking that our Saiyans went down, and the ultimate fate of our kind, do we truly differ.” He chuckled. “It’s so stupid. This could’ve all been different for us, if one thing hadn’t happen.” He turned to Vegeta, the waning light casting thick, black shadows on his sharp features. “Our King went second.”

Vegeta felt his jaw drop open.

King Sadala chuckled again, looking away and off. “If the draw had been different… if our King went first…” He shook his head. “Terrifying. Terrifying, and absolutely humbling.” He rotated fully to Vegeta, his arms unfurling. “I thank you, Prince Vegeta, for sharing this with me, and for coming to our world. I apologize for my initial comments and beliefs of your people and I mourn for the untimely demise of our fellow Saiyans.” He came closer to Vegeta, closing the gap between them. “I can tell there will be a lot for you to learn. I’m hoping there will be some overlaps here and there, so this doesn’t overwhelm you too much. I’m here to answer any questions you may have, as well any member of my court.” He rested a hand onto Vegeta’s shoulder. “And as ridiculous as this will sound to you, I thank the Gods that you are here and we can make amends for the sins of our ancestors.” He squeezed hard. “To me, you will always be a part of the court of Sadala, a member of the royal family, and a Prince to our people.”

He didn’t have the strength to return the gesture, nor the power to stop himself from his vision blurring over. Luckily, no tears fell.

In a husky whisper, Vegeta said, “Thank you, King Sadala the IV.”

King Sadala grinned. “You are welcome, Prince Vegeta the IV.” One last squeeze, a strong pat, and then he slid his arm around Vegeta’s shoulders, turning him around and guiding him to the doors. “Now, let us retire to the great room and speak as brothers would. I believe there is much to talk about.”

***

It was not enough time. Vegeta and the King spoke across from one another for hours, telling stories of their childhoods, their cultures, their favorite foods, diving in and searching for any similarities and differences between their two worlds. Vegeta’s memory triggered so many times with every little thing the King said. Memories he completely forgot about or memories he didn’t even know he possessed, ranging from his tutors disciplining him with sharp sticks to his mother’s favorite soap—the one feminine indulgence she spoiled herself with—his fathers penchant to snack on sweets at odd hours of the night during stressful times, the smell of morning flowers from the garden, the sound of running water coming from the nearby streams. Memories that matched and differed from Sadala’s own.

They could’ve gone for more hours, and Vegeta was ready for it. But a loud knock on the chamber door stopped them short from continuing on.

A petite woman in a Sadalan dress, colored and styled in a way similar to King Sadala’s, entered the room for a moment. “The feast awaits your presence, my King.”

“D’in m’yo, ko’sh’ii,” he responded, “I will be there shortly.”

She nodded on his direct, closing the door softly. Once gone, Vegeta asked, “Daughter?”

“My eldest, Chikora. She takes after her mother quite well.” He stood up, cracking his neck side to side. “Now, my two twin hellion boys? They’re _definitely_ all me.”

Vegeta met said hellions not a moment after they exited the great room. They pounced on the King, one clinging to each leg, shouting and crying and arguing in such rapid-fast Sadalan that Vegeta couldn’t follow along. If it wasn’t for the different hairstyles, Sadalan clothing and coloring, they almost looked and acted like copies of his own son and Kakarot’s youngest.

The King silenced them with a raucous growl from deep within his chest. The twins instantly fell silent and let go of their father, stepping away and falling into a soldier’s stance, their arms locked by their sides, their chins tilted up and proud.

They exchanged more hurried Sadalan words, the King’s tone being one Vegeta knew well—the reprimanding tone of an annoyed, exasperated father. He stood to attention when the King gestured to him, then back to the children, then back to him. Then he crossed his arms, glaring at the two boys.

As one, the two twins bowed to Vegeta and said, “Wakale, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

He bowed in return, pushing a fist over the crest of his breastplace. “D’in m’yo, n’cini ve’ho’tiu.” _Thank you, young princes._

Another sharp growl in Sadalan from the King, and the twins nearly jumped in place. He heard the distinct words of “sorry” followed by rapid-fire Sadalan banter yet again as the twins flew down the hallway, shoving each other here and there.

The King sighed. “I keep telling them not to fly in the palace. It’s only a matter of time before they break something or someone.”

“Sometimes that’s what they need in order to learn.”

The King smirked at Vegeta. “Speaking from experience?”

Vegeta shrugged. The King laughed.

It wasn’t long before they entered the large, ornate banquet hall of the palace. Rows upon rows of long, decorated tables filled up the large space, with Saiyans of every shape and age and size talking, laughing, pouring drinks, telling stories, a few lively arguments here and there. Against each golden wall of the hall rested a oil painting of each King, a royal family member, a depiction of a history Vegeta slightly remembered or a history he didn’t know at all. Colorful dots littered the grounds, all coming from the waning sunlight peeking through the stained glass windows. It reminded Vegeta so much of his old palace’s large banquet hall that he could’ve imagined his father entering these chamber doors at any minute.

A familiar raucous laugh followed by two boyish squeaks caught Vegeta’s attention, ending his potential reminiscing. It didn’t take long to find the source of it: Goku at one of the end tables near the head table of the royal family, wrestling a large leg of meat from King Sadala’s twin boys. They jerked the meat back and forth on opposite sides of the table, drawing the attention of more and more Saiyans in the hall. At the head table sat the royal family, with Whis and Beerus at the ends, already digging into food.

Drinks spilled. Cutlery dropped to the ground. The tablecloth started to slip off, pushing other people’s food and drinks here and there. Quick, sharp shouts of annoyance and confusion.

Then the woman from earlier—the King’s eldest daughter, Chikora—snapped at them from the head table snapped in Sadalan, a guttural growl that reminded Vegeta of his own mother’s snarl and even caused him to pause for a quick moment.

The two boys instantly stopped what they did at the sound, which caused Goku to fly backwards and onto his ass, the leg of meat falling onto his face.

Most in the hall laughed at the sight, the two boys the loudest of them all. Their laughter died when their eldest sister came over, grabbed their ears and dragged them back, literally, to the head table, plopping them back in place.

Goku pulled himself up to his feet, holding the leg of meat in hand. He glared at the two boys, who proceeded to stick their tongues at him when their sister wasn’t looking. Goku, in turn, stuck his tongue back, then proceeded to take a gigantic bite out of the leg.

From behind Goku, the King said, “I see you’ve gotten acquainted with my boys.”

Goku shot up from his seat, saluting the King with the leg of meat against his forehead. “G’in Ve’ho Sadala, m’yo fr’il’va ma’tapa!”

The whole hall fell silent.

Vegeta’s mouth dropped wide open.

No sound was made—except for the audible, muffled laughter of the two princes at the head table.

The King blinked once. Twice.

Goku blinked back. “Um.” He looked around, dropping his hand to his side. “Uh.” Saw everyone was looking at him with the most horrified looks on their faces.

Vegeta met his gaze and watched Goku point his free hand to the boys at the head table. “They told me to say that next time I saw you...”

It was instantaneous: the whole hall broke out into raucous laughter, the King throwing his head back, clutching his stomach, almost doubling over. Beerus even cackled as loud as the King, Whis giggling behind a hand.

Vegeta couldn’t help himself and joined in as well, shaking his head back and forth. “Idiot,” he muttered in between chuckles.

His laughter stopped when he caught Goku’s hurt gaze.

The King slapped Goku’s shoulder, working against his laughter as he spoke. “Kakarot, take that as a lesson learned.” He pointed to the two princes. “ _Never_ trust those two.”

The forced smile on Goku’s face didn’t sit right with Vegeta. “Y-Yeah.” Nor did the small crack in his voice. “I know better now.”

The King patted Goku’s shoulder one more time, then turned to address the crowd in Sadalan. Vegeta took that moment to come up to Goku’s side and leaned in. “Kakarot—”

“Don’t.”

That harsh whisper struck Vegeta’s chest. “It wasn’t offensive to the King.”

“Fine. Now drop it.” He opened his mouth in protest, but Goku’s watery eyes locked onto his. His next word stopped him cold. “ _Please_.” And he listened, turning away and taking a step away as well from the man.

The rest of the banquet went well once the King finished addressing the crowd and took his seat at the head table. But the way Goku stayed quiet and reserved during the meal did not sit well with Vegeta. He ate with the same normal vigor he usually reserved. But something was off. He didn’t look at people. He barely engaged in conversation. It was obvious why, and Vegeta understood why, but what bothered him most was the fact that Goku was _that_ hurt by it—and worse still: that Vegeta was _annoyed_ by Goku’s hurt.

What Goku said wasn’t offensive after all, just crude and unexpected. But Goku probably didn’t need to ever know the exact translation—that he announced to the King of Sadala that he was a dumb and stupid shit head, in front of an entire room full of Saiyans, in a language he didn’t fully understand.

As dessert wheeled out throughout the hall, with Vegeta in mid-conversation with a soldier, Goku stood up and faced the head table. “King Sadala?”

The King paused in his conversation with Whis and turned his full attention to him. “Yes?”

“May I be excused? If, uh.” He scratched the back of his head. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” He gestured one of the palace guards over. “Take our guest—”

“I’d like to go by myself. Please.”

The King nodded. He waved the guard off. “Call on any of my guards should you find yourself lost.”

Vegeta heard one of the princes sneer a few Sadalan words he couldn’t pick up, but by the way their older sister slapped the back of his head, none of what he said was kind in the least.

Goku glanced at the young prince before he nodded to the King. “Thanks.”

He watched Goku leave, how he didn’t work through the crowd of tables but made a beeline right for the edges of the hall. Vegeta didn’t let his attention part from Goku’s retreating figure, how it almost stayed glued to the walls, until he disappeared behind one of the banquet doors.

For a very brief moment, Vegeta felt the urge to follow. Clearly, the man was upset and embarrassed. But Goku was a grown up. He didn’t need coddling, or comforting. He could handle his emotions by himself. Plus, there was no way Vegeta would go after him and potentially cause another scene in front of a hall full of Saiyans, in the presence of the royal family. Goku already made enough of a scene. He didn’t want nor need to contribute to it.

From the side, he heard the King snap at his sons: “R’en ngu _wenxa_ ih’or’hi?” _What is wrong with you two?_

They spoke over each other in rapid Sadalan again. Vegeta focused hard to catch some key, telltale words. _Ambuwa gumisou_ , Sadalan training grounds. Goku’s name. The word _ji’shi_ , for spar. Resentful, indignant tones, angry and vengeful sounding words—similar in tone and delivery to the ones Vegeta muttered to himself when Goku trounced him in a spar. He didn’t need to know the whole word-for-word translation to know what they were saying: Goku must’ve showed up not just one, but two uppity and smug Saiyan princes, in a spar, in front of their people, in their palace, and neither one was clearly happy about it.

One of the princes yelled at his brother, shouting, “T’au impazamo, Courget!”— _your fault, Courget_. The other snapped back, pushing right into his brother’s face, “T’au umbono, Baternat!”— _your idea, Baternat_. More rapidfire Sadalan. The twins literally went nose-to-nose. Ki blasts charged in each of their hands as they growled, rising above their seats at the head table.

Chikora stepped right behind the two, placed her hands behind each of their heads and _slammed_ them together hard. As the twins cried on top of their lungs and belted guttural Sadalan at their older sister, she turned to the King with a big smile on her face.

“Excuse me, my King.” She grabbed the ears of both Saiyan princes, yanking them out of their seats and to her sides, without a crack in her calm demeanor. “I believe I have some work to attend to.”

King Sadala waved his daughter off, unable to hold back his smirk at the way she manhandled the two twins out of the banquet hall without much fanfare. He turned his attention to Whis and Beerus at the end of his table. “My apologies for my children, my Lord.”

“Hn.” Beerus shoveled another piece of meat in his mouth.

“No harm done,” Whis said. “No food was spilled, after all!”

“Indeed.” He then turned to Vegeta and gestured him over to his table. Once Vegeta approached the table, the King leaned over and beckoned him closer, until his ear was close to his mouth. He whispered, “Go to him.”

“What?” Vegeta frowned. “Kakarot?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no need. He will be fine.”

The King frowned in return.

“He just needs a moment,” Vegeta said.

“Ku’linge?” _Positive?_

“Ku’linge, m’yo Ve’ho. You already know he is not a normal Saiyan. He… _feels_ more than one necessarily should.”

“I see.” He leaned back, a wistful smile rising on his face. “Similar to my mate. She always required space when she was stressed.” He waved Vegeta off. “Very well, ve’ho’ti. You of all people would know what’s best for him in this situation.”

Vegeta froze in place.

The implication in those words drove ice down his spine.

The utter understanding, as if they came from the same cloth, the same place. Similar knowledge.

He could’ve written it off as prince-to-subject. He should’ve, and just let it be, right there and then. But the King’s words beforehand. His mate. Needing space. The wistful, sad, loving look. Their talk of mates beforehand, earlier in the day.

To double check, he said, “My wife would beg to differ.”

The world slowed down when the King replied, “Wife?”

“Earthling word for ‘mate.’”

His heart stopped when the King’s eyes bugged out. “A woman?” A scream built in his throat when he tilted his head. “You mean…”

 _Don’t make a scene,_ he chanted, _don’t make a scene, don’t make a scene, don’t you dare—_

The King asked, “Kakarot isn’t—?”

Vegeta’s scream ripped out of him before the King could finish his sentence. 

***

A nightmare awaited Vegeta when he retired to the guest quarters—a terrifying, traumatic scenario that Vegeta never, ever imagined happening, _ever_ , because who in their right mind would come up with this horrendous insanity except as punishment, or as amusement, from the gods themselves? One of those gods sure as hell didn’t mind laughing at his expense though once he finally calmed down and the King explained the situation. Beerus fell off his chair, wheezing and choking on his own laughter. Vegeta could do nothing but hold his tongue.

Inside the opulent chambers, Vegeta found a large, single king sized bed, framed by oak wood posts and headboard, covered in burgundy and black sheets and pillows. Burgundy curtains framed one of the opened windows. A cabinet and a bookcase rested side by side against that window, followed by a large oak table, where a tray of oils, candles, towels, snacks and refreshments laid out.

And, of course, Goku, standing there, in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around his torso, looking as lost and embarrassed as he did earlier in the banquet hall, if not worse.

Goku, who seemed to understand the situation as well as Vegeta did, somehow. _Must’ve been tipped off or told by someone_ , he presumed, and it didn’t make Vegeta feel any better, knowing he wasn’t the only one horrified and confused.

He slammed the chamber door behind him.

Goku flinched at the sound.

Vegeta walked right to him.

For once, Goku looked downright _terrified_ of him, and it gave Vegeta no joy to see it. Goku opened his mouth, searching for words, his lips visibly trying to form something, _anything_ , but no sound followed.

Vegeta shook his head no. He grunted, “Don’t,” as he passed right by Goku for the bathroom.

A small wave of relief washed over him when he found his bags unpacked and his clothing hung. He didn’t bother looking behind him when he shut the door.

He wasn’t surprised to see Goku still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, still dressed in his same clothes. Goku now looked at the floor, absentmindedly rubbing at his bare biceps.

Vegeta dropped his wet towel into a wicker basket, now dressed in his sleeping shorts, wet skin becoming taut in the cool air of the chamber room.

He made a beeline right for the bed.

As he pulled back the sheets, he heard Goku croak out, “I’m sorry.”

He paused for a moment.

“I didn’t—I mean, I—Vegeta, I’m _so_ sorry.”

He sighed.

“I don’t know what I did to—to make them—I didn’t mean it, whatever I did, and the fact that I embarrassed you, in front of the King, in front of _everyone_ —”

“Kakarot—”

“So I had to get away, I had to, and I know it’d be embarrassing to do that, but I did it, and then I ran into Cabba when I was out there, in the gardens, and he and I talked, and that was nice, and that’s when he told me, he said he thought—”

“I _know_ , Kakarot.” He finally turned to Goku, gripping the sheets hard in one hand. Watery black eyes met his. “It’s a misunderstanding. Even the King knows his sons pulled a fast one on you. It’s _fine._ ”

He watched Goku’s mouth shut into a thin line, how he rubbed at his bare biceps, then glanced down and away to the floor. How his watery eyes seemed the shimmer in the light and a sharp pain struck him hard in the gut at how Goku, for a brief moment, blinked the wetness away in rapid flutters, then swiped at his eyes, once, twice, with a shaky hand, before he shook his head and turned away, heading to the open window.

Without a pause, Goku walked right up against the window and slid down to his knees and then to his side. His arms stayed curled around him as he snuggled up to the stone wall, curling up into a tight fetal position, knees pressed against his chest.

There was a very strong urge to let Goku wallow in whatever pit of sadness the man felt, to leave him be to whatever embarrassment the man felt, crawl into bed and sleep away the disaster of the evening. But the sharp pain in Vegeta’s gut transformed into a palpable nausea, one that rose up and struck him hard somewhere on the left side of his rib cage.

He let the sheets go to walk around the bed, until his bare feet came within touching distance of Goku’s orange clad back.

“Get up.”

“No.” A sniffle—a damned sniffle from the sorry man followed.

Vegeta huffed. “May I remind you, we’ve slept in the same room before, for three blasted years.”

“That was different.”

“Two beds, yes, but this one is both of our worthless cots combined and then some.”

“I’m used to sleeping on the floor, did it all the time as a kid.”

“And you’re acting like one right now by doing this.”

“I—” Vegeta watched him hug himself into an even tighter ball, if possible. How his knuckled-white fingers dented his skin, bruising the flesh. Another, damned sniffle, followed by Goku’s shaky whisper of: “I deserve this.”

Vegeta growled, “For _what_? For a misunderstanding created by someone else? It’s not your fault Cabba told the King, the rest of the royal court and probably the whole damned planet that he thought we were mates. You’re not the one who put that notion into his head.”

“But, the banquet, all those people—” Goku let go of one bicep for a moment to briefly swipe at his face, running his palm over and over his eyes and cheeks. “They all _knew_. I acted like that and said all that and they all _knew_ and—”

“For the last time, Kakarot, it’s fine.”

“It’s _not_!” That hand slammed against the wall, leaving a small crack behind before he wrapped it back around his bicep. He watched Goku try to curl up even tigther, push up even more against the wall, to no avail. Watched how he tried holding back whatever tears and potential sounds behind gritted teeth, how he breathed heavily through his nose, until he gave up with a sigh and buried his face into the wall itself, shielding his face away with his wild mane of black hair.

Then: “Don’t you think I know how important this is to you? These are your people, and I made you look like an idiot in front of them. Now that I know they think we’re mates, which Cabba said is super important in their culture, and that was on their minds when I did that, and now all of this, and I just…” Another sniffle. Another shake of his body. “I should go.”

“ _What_?”

“I should leave tomorrow. With Beerus and Whis.”

“What the fuck for?”

Goku’s rough sigh seemed to house a tone of incredulousness to it. “Come on, Vegeta. It’s obvious I don’t belong here nor should I even be here to begin with. You’re better off being here without me. It’d be less embarrassing and you wouldn’t have to deal with potentially babysitting me since I can’t even hold myself against two stupid kids pulling a fast one over me.”

Vegeta rubbed at his eyes, sighing. “Kakarot—”

“You know I’m right.”

“What I _know_ is that you’re pissing me off to the point where I’m one step away from kicking you right through the wall that you’re clearly best friends with, so if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to shut the _fuck_ up and let me speak through that thick brain of yours for a brief moment.”

He waited until Goku said not another word before he crouched down into a deep squatting position, looming over Goku’s back. Both of his arms flopped over his quadriceps, resting between his open thighs.

He watched the rise and fall of Goku’s back for a moment before he licked his lips and said, “You didn’t fuck up. I did.” He put a hand on Goku’s back the second he saw that body jerk in place and start to turn. “Don’t. You had no idea what you were coming into, Kakarot. You don’t know our language. You have no memories of anything from our race. I was young when Planet Vegeta was blown up, so I don’t know everything, but I at least have a better understanding than you do. I should’ve known better and given you a little bit of a heads up in some capacity, but I didn’t. For that, Kakarot?” He slid his hand up to Goku’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I apologize. I failed you.”

Goku startled in place. He began to turn his head. “Vegeta—”

“I am the last prince of our planet and our race. It was my responsibility to make you abreast to our culture and language to the best of my ability, and I didn’t. Even now you call them _my_ people, when they are _our_ people, Kakarot. And that’s a failure on my behalf, a failure that I have to shoulder the burden of, as a prince should.”

Goku fully peeked his head over his shoulder. Wide, wet eyes met Vegeta’s. “But I never asked though,” he said. He fully turned around to lay flat on his back against the wall, causing Vegeta to let his shoulder go. “I never gave you an opportunity. How can you say it’s your fault, when I should’ve asked you instead? I could’ve asked you at any time, especially on the trip here, but I didn’t.”

“Hn. That is true.” Vegeta tilted his head to the side. “So why didn’t you?”

“I…” Goku’s gazed drifted downwards and away. A soft breeze brushed the window’s curtains against the cool wall, rising visible goosebumps on the flesh of Goku’s arms. He shivered for a brief moment, then closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Another soft breeze. Goku started to turn his whole body away again, back from Vegeta and to the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that.” Vegeta grabbed his shoulder, yanking Goku to his back again. Despite the man looking away, off to the wall, he stared right at him, holding him in place. “Wallowing in self-pity isn’t becoming of a Saiyan.”

“Well, I’m not much of one, am I?”

“Then you can _learn_. I know you identify yourself as an Earthling, and I know you care not for our Saiyan ways of old, but look at these people, Kakarot. Look at this world. It’s a different universe and a different outcome, but I learned from the King today first hand, all of this, all that you see here?” He shook his shoulder and leaned in closer to him. “ _This_ could have been the future of our Saiyan brethren. Only by sheer chance did we not end up this way.” A small smile played against his lips. “Don’t you see? We have been given a gift, a chance to be with our people and learn their ways like we never did as children. We get to honor our people through us, with this time, here, on Sadala.” He slapped his shoulder. “Now, get up. Get to bed. We have breakfast in the morning with the King.”

Goku spared a quick glance to him before looking away yet again. And, to Vegeta’s utter annoyance, he shook his head no. “I’m still leaving.”

He growled, “ _Kakarot_ —”

“You said it yourself. I’m an Earthling. I’ll never be a Saiyan. I don’t know anything about who we were. I never had an interest in it. And quite frankly, I don’t know if I _ever_ will, because I never care about the past and I don’t care about what will happen, just the now. And right now?” He turned fully back around, right to the wall, right back into that tight, tight ball of orange gi. “I want to go home.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth. He felt both of his hands turn into tight fists, the knuckles pulling against bone, his fingers digging deep into skin.

“You petulant child,” he eventually said.

“I guess I am,” Goku replied. Then he chuckled. “How Cabba thought we were these ‘mates,’ I have no idea. We barely get along to begin with. I know I’ve tried, and I thought we were closer after that time in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and then the whole thing with Moro, but now…” He sighed. “I guess you’re right. I truly am an idiot.”

“Hn.” He slowly came to his feet, staring right at Goku’s back. “On that, we agree.” He turned away to the bed, saying loudly over his shoulder, “An idiot, _and_ a coward.”

“Excuse me?”

He resisted the urge to look back. “You have the opportunity to know our culture, and yet you run away from it.”

“Because I made an ass out of you!”

“In my years of knowing you, not once have you backed down from a challenge. Now when it matters most, when you are close to learning a side of you that you once never knew existed, in a world that shows what our race could’ve been?” Once on the far side of the large bed, he pulled back the sheets with a big yank. “You let fear win.” He climbed into the bed, shaking his head. “Pitiful.”

From the other side of the room, Goku slowly emphasized out each word, “I am not afraid.”

“Then prove it, Kakarot.” He curled onto his side, with his back turned to Goku. “Prove to yourself, not to me, that you are not afraid and stay.” He pulled the sheets over his body, up to his neck. “Or don’t. It’s your choice.”

A lull of silence followed. Another breeze ruffled the curtains. A small, short shuffling of clothes. Light breathing from the other side of the room. Then more lulling silence.

Vegeta leaned up to blow out the nearby candle on the nightstand next to the bed, then promptly flopped the side of his face into the large, cool pillows.

He drifted in and out of consciousness then, occasionally woken by some sounds. A shower running. A door opening. Clothes rustling, some falling to the floor. The pitter patter of bare feet against cold tile.

The sheets on the other side of the bed pulled against his own. A heavy weight landed and dipped beside him, but far away from skin-on-skin contact.

That weight hesitated. Goku whispered, “It’s okay for me to be here, right?”

With half his mouth attached to the pillow, Vegeta grunted, “Just get in already.”

He expected Goku to flop right in. Instead, that hesitance followed in all of his moments, in how he slipped into the sheets, pulling them up, settled in and becoming so ridiculously still. As if Goku’s very presence in this bed with Vegeta would break the foundation of the world they stood on and bring it to its very knees and then some.

He found himself chuckling to himself, with those chuckles eventually finding a voice, spilling out between his dry lips and into the pillowcase.

Beside him, he heard Goku grunt out, “What’s so funny?”

As his last chuckle petered out, Vegeta replied. “You listened to me.”

“So?”

“About time you obeyed your prince.”

“ARGH!” The bed jerked as Goku moved, most likely to glare right at him. He could feel the anger radiating off Goku from the other side, probably lasered in on the back of his head. “Can you not?!”

All Vegeta replied with was a laugh, a laugh that turned into an even louder guffaw as Goku huffed and yelled and jerked the sheets further more towards his side. He finally turned around and saw the man huddled up into a tight ball again, back turned towards him like before. At least this time he wasn’t on the stupid ground against that cold wall. He still had enough sheets to stay warm and covered during the night, despite Goku’s childish antics.

From where he laid, he watched the rise and fall of Goku’s back, the gentle breeze from the outside world waving the tips of his wild locks back and forth. His mind wandered to those feelings from earlier—the heavy pit in his stomach, the nausea that upset him all the way to the underside of his left side, the sharp striking pain that hit his gut when he saw Goku’s embarrassment. The way he felt during their entire conversation, especially when Goku admitted he wanted to leave tomorrow.

In any other time during their relationship, Vegeta would’ve encouraged Goku to go the next day. He probably would’ve even forced him out of their shared bedroom, even if it was only for one night. Maybe even been the one who made him sleep on the floor and stay in a corner of the room, against that wall. Any other time, Vegeta would’ve done it, and enjoyed it too.

But after everything—Frieza, Cell, Buu, Zamasu, the Tournament of Power, Moro—none of that felt right or warranted. Especially now, with them on Planet Sadala, when they had the opportunity to learn, to grow. To be with their people. To do the one thing Vegeta had no idea he should’ve done at some point in their relationship, up until that moment when he saw that unbridled shame on Goku’s face: to teach Goku their Saiyan culture, history and ways, on the planet that was so akin to their very own, it truly could’ve been a twin.

Shame. It didn’t suit Goku. Nor did whatever the hell look he sported while he laid on the ground like a petulant child on the floor earlier. Not once in their relationship had he seen the man so humiliated and mortified, not even when he was on his last leg in the Tournament of Power, or when Moro had trounced them in their first fight against him. Had this been at any other point of their long history together, Vegeta would’ve relished in the sight, to know that the man was capable of such emotion, and that for once, Goku knew it was his own fault, that he brought this onto himself, and that he truly deserved it.

Not now. And if Vegeta was honest, not anymore. They had been through too much, survived too many things and accomplished so much of what was deemed impossible that there was no way he could ever fathom of picturing Goku that way again: beneath him, belittled and debased, to the point of tears. As much as the man could piss him off with his impulsive, irresponsible actions and equally reckless words, Vegeta wouldn’t have it any other way. This was Kakarot, an Earthling-raised Saiyan. This is who he was. His last subject. His comrade. His friend.

He chuckled to himself.

 _Mate, apparently, too_.

The chuckled died off as he watched Goku sleep on the other side of the bed. He pulled his side of the sheets closer to him the old unsettling nausea returned as he remembered Goku’s words and the honesty, desperation and sadness beneath them.

_I should leave tomorrow._

_I’ll never be a Saiyan._

_I want to go home._

The words hit Vegeta’s brain like a freight train.

 _Stay._ He tightened his grip around the sheets. _Please stay._

Chances of him saying that aloud to the man were zero. That would never happen. The fact that he thought them at all was shocking enough, let alone the fact that he could feel that he was truly okay with how sincere they felt in his mind and his body. But it felt right. It felt fine. He was okay with it, because he truly needed Goku to stay, to learn with him, to explore with him, to read and understand and appreciate the heritage and history and lessons and lore and everything else Vegeta might’ve forgotten back on Planet Vegeta because there was a high chance that maybe, just maybe, Sadala might have all of the same things too.

It was for Vegeta’s sake. For Goku’s sake. Just to experience everything with fresh eyes and a new, better perspective. To show Goku what could’ve been. To show him this is what we were, before Frieza, before things changed for us, before we left Sadala for Planet Plant. And if that made everyone think that they were mates because of this, it truly didn’t matter. After all—

 _It’s not as if he isn’t good looking_.

Vegeta’s eyes bugged out.

He blinked once. Twice.

Watched the rise and fall of Goku’s expansive back again and again. Listened to his soft, gentle snores, how they echoed in the large chambers, like little whistles of wind.

Vegeta quickly turned to his side, back to Goku and shut his eyes.

 _Sleep. Go to sleep._ The mantra ran through his brain again and again as he forced himself into the blackness beneath his lids and wrapped himself into the cool sheets even tighter. _Go to sleep, go to sleep, go the_ fuck _to sleep_.

He thankfully slept dreamless the whole night. One hand, however, did gravitate towards Goku during the night. Goku, in his own deep sleep, turned towards it. No skin touched. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first multi-chapter story for the fandom! BIG thanks to Vakaara for chatting with me about it on Tumblr (I had 3 ideas to choose from and she helped guide me to write this one). The whole story is outlined out. It's going to be A THICK STORY if this chapter is to judge by, lol.


	2. Chapter 2

Come the morning, Goku found himself alone. Sunlight bled through the room from the window, illuminating the luxurious mirrors and lamps and furniture, to the shimmering sheen on the onyx and burgundy bedsheets. From the outside world came the sound similar to cooing birds, paired with the gentle whistling of wind. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he came to his feet, walking towards that window and gaze out at what laid before him.

Bright blue sky, clear of any clouds. Endless fields of green out in the horizon, paired with rolling mountains and numerous trees of varying shapes and sizes. It almost reminded him of his own mornings waking on Mt. Paozu, except there was no Chichi snapping at him from downstairs to wake up and eat already so he could get to work sooner, no Goten pouncing on his bed to rouse him from the last of sleep until he finally caved in and poke and prodded him back, right into a wrestling fight. But the sight was similar, so similar it eased away whatever terrible remnants of yesterday off his shoulders and from his mind.

Out in the distance, Goku noticed a few stacks of smoke. His eyes traced the lines of grey down to a bustling city beyond the towering spires, the brick walls and the guards that marched in perfect rows inside the palace grounds. Colorful tents of varying heights and lengths, people of different shapes and sizes, walking, talking, children playing, laughter, the roar and snarls of animals he didn’t know paired alongside pieces of food that made his stomach growl—and Goku rose a hand to his belly, his lips licking in time with his eyes shining.

Three small, succinct knocks to the door caused him to turn away from the sight. A familiar woman from last night stood at the slightly open door, dressed in royal Sadalan attire. She greeted him with a small nod. “Breakfast is ready,” she said.

“Thanks! Is Vegeta there?”

She nodded again. “Your mate—” A bright blush instantly appeared across her cheeks as simultaneous as her sharp gasp, a hand flying to her mouth. Goku found himself mimicking her very blush as he watched her shake her head a few times. “My apologies. I mean, yes, Prince Vegeta is in the royal quarters, awaiting your arrival.”

It took a moment to clear his suddenly dry throat before he replied, “T-Thanks.”

Her hand fell to the side of her chest, her fingers curled, close to her heart. She attempted a small smile, one that looked as wobbly as the one Goku felt himself giving her. “I’m Chikora, by the way,” she said. “King Sadala’s eldest daughter.”

“Oh. Yes.” He turned fully to face her, a shaky hand rising up to gave her a tiny wave from across the room. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you as well, Kakarot—” She flew that hand up to the side of her face, slapping it once. “Oh, wait. No, no.” She winced as she pointed at him. “Goku. It’s Goku, right? You prefer that, correct?”

“Um…” His shaky hand lifted to the back of his head. “Uh…” The blush on his face burned his flesh deeper. Suddenly the urge to melt into the floor again, like last night, hit Goku as hard as a slap across the face. “I, uh… yes. I do.”

Chikora must’ve picked up on his emotions, because she ducked her head and muttered, “My apologies,” and slipped past the door, adding on at the end, “Come when you’re ready.”

He stared at the closed door for a while, enough where he felt his feet start to tingle, his skin turned to gooseflesh from the cool breeze outside, and his stomach growled loud enough that it startled him in place. To his chagrin, he noticed then his arms had wrapped themselves back around his bare torso, the fingers digging right back into the same place as last night, causing the bruises there to darken just a tiny bit more. He took a big, long inhale, held it for a moment long enough so his lungs could nicely burn, and then released it all in an equally big, equally long exhale, before he felt ready enough to walk towards the bathroom and prepare himself for the outside world.

Goku didn’t fail to notice the lack of Vegeta’s bags as he groomed himself in the bathroom. Sometime during his sleep, the man left with his things, which gave Goku the tiniest bit of relief. Preparing another room for Vegeta must’ve given everyone no doubt in their minds that they _were_ not what they were all told they were. But his mind wandered to Chikora’s fumbling and his own equally awkward responses from earlier, and he frowned, an unbecoming uneasiness settling in the pit of his stomach. The chance of the damage unable to be undone seemed to be a high one. But Vegeta seemed to be on the same page as him when it came to fixing that wrong.

Any other time in their relationship, it could’ve gone the other way. He truly believed the good in everyone, albeit to his detriment and the irritation of others on more occasions than he could count. It was the deciding factor in so many of his fights, none more applicable than his first against Vegeta. But just because someone was good didn’t mean there was no inability of succumbing to baser instincts. He wouldn’t have put it past Vegeta to mock him or belittle him in front of others, had it been earlier in their relationship. But Vegeta seemed to not have that kind of mean streak in him now, especially when he considered how proud the man was. If there was one thing Goku could count on, it was Vegeta’s pride, and frankly, his ability to grow.

There was a guard waiting for Goku once he emerged from the chambers. Dressed in his orange gi than the Sadalan armor that was hanging in the closet, clearly meant for him with how the garments were sized, he followed behind the soldier the whole way down the hall and around a corner. He gazed at the all the beautifully designed stained glass windows, passed by other soldiers, greeted some Saiyans in less ornate garb who went here and there, gawked at the framed pictures upon framed pictures of Saiyans in warlike poses lining the decorative walls.

At two large, golden double doors, the soldier stopped before it, knocking three times before two knocks answered from the other side. He opened it for Goku and stepped back a good feet, gesturing him forward with a slight bow of his head.

Inside the room he found a large table with King Sadala at the head, sitting in a burgundy satin chair adorned in gold and crystal. A very large stained glass window of a Saiyan warrior in combat loomed behind him, casting a kalidescope of light on the plentiful plates and bowls of food spread before him. On one side sat the royal family—Chikora, the twins Baternat and Courget—on the other, Vegeta, Beerus and Whis.

King Sadala looked up at him as he entered, a wide smile on his face. “So you awaken, Goku. Good morning.”

“Mornin’ your highness.”

“Sit, eat. We’re off to the _yokuthensai_ once you’ve feasted.”

“That’s our major source of shopping and trade outside the palace,” Chikora interjected in between bites of colorful-looking food. She smiled at him as he took the obviously empty chair at the farthest end of the table adjacent to Whis. “Prince Vegeta says you call it a ‘bazaar’ on your planet.”

“Oh! That sounds pretty neat…” He trailed off when two servants flanked his side and picked up the plate in front of him, proceeding to fill it up to the brim. “Ah, you don’t have to—”

“Let them do their job,” Vegeta snapped from down along the table. A side-eye glare stopped Goku short of protesting yet again.

“Yeah, _Goku_ , they’re _servants_ ,” one of the twins, Baternat, sneered at him.

His brother, Courget, chimed in with an equal sneer of his own, “It’s what they _do._ ”

The King’s guttural snarl echoed in the chamber: “ _Ho’ta’shi._ ”

Goku suppressed the urge to smirk when the twins froze in place, before ducking their heads, grabbing their utensils and shoveling their food as fast as possible into their mouths.

Once the servants returned Goku’s plate of food before him again, Chikora said, “My apologies for my brothers. They’re still children.”

“Oh that’s okay, I get it! I have two sons of my own, you know.”

“Ah.” She wiped at her mouth with a napkin from her lap. “So you understand our turmoil then.”

Goku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “Joys of parenting!”

Chikora chuckled in return. She turned to her father at the end of the table. “Two Saiyan fathers of boys might be quite helpful for us, _k’ne,_ my King?

The King smiled. “If they would be willing to impart any of their wisdom upon us, I would be most grateful.” He turned his attention to Vegeta. “What say you, ve’ho’ti Vegeta?”

“R’en’re m’yo Ve’ho imniqo.”

“Spoken like a well-taught prince.” He then turned his attention to Goku. “And you?”

“Uhhh, ditto!” His chuckle sounded weak, almost—annoyingly— embarrassed. “Whatever Vegeta said.”

The King narrowed his eyes as he clasped his hands, elbows resting on the table. He pointed one finger at Goku, wagging it a little. “If Vegeta hadn’t explained everything beforehand, I would’ve sworn that was a _mah’kha_ response.”

Goku felt the ground give way under him when he heard the whole table erupt into laughter. The same, damned laughter as the night before. Even Beerus and Whis chortled along with them.

A chill broke out over his skin, along with the strong, desperate need to put two fingers to his head, lock onto a ki signature _anywhere_ on the planet and leave, _now_.

He didn’t feel any better when Chikora hissed, “ _Ja’ta!_ ”

“Oh ko’sh’ii, I tease!”

“Tch.” She looked almost like a ticked-off Vegeta as she shook her head, spooning the last of her food into her mouth. “And you say the twins are bad.”

“Who do you think they get it from?”

“Ja’ta, _konele_. Your fault for believing lies.” She pointed her spoon to Goku, raising an eyebrow to her father. “Well?”

“Aiii, yes, ko’sh’ii.” He turned to Goku and all Goku wanted to do was run—because the urge to punch grew with every second he sat there. “I have already told Prince Vegeta this but you deserved the same apology as well. I am truly sorry for any embarrassment that my boys and my court caused you the previous evening, and my most sincerest apologies for our mistake for assuming the status of your relationship. As my daughter says, it is our fault for listening to second-hand information, rather than asking the source itself.” He rose a hand and reached over to Vegeta, patting him on the shoulder before he shook it. “Thankfully the Prince righted our wrong this morning before you arrived! So all is well, I assure you.”

“I personally loved the endless entertainment,” Beerus deadpanned.

Whis chuckled. “You would, my Lord.”

The King smiled at them. “Be as that may.” He returned his attention to Goku. “Neither you nor the prince deserve this treatment whatsoever, and I am hoping our trip to the _yokuthensai_ today will make up for our actions and start your trip here on Planet Sadala anew.”

Then all eyes went right to him. Everyone. He saw the princess, the twins, the other two Saiyan royals, even Beerus and Whis. They all looked right at him, waiting for his response. Waiting for him to reply _yes_ , _of course, no problem King, I don’t have any issues at all with this, it’s not like you not only humiliated me_ once _in front of a whole crowd of people I didn’t know but_ twice _and this time you made fun of something that completely mortified me when I found out from Cabba and that was on the heels of making an ass out of myself, but sure, let’s go to the you-kuu-whatever and have a blast, I got no issues with that, none whatsoever._

They all looked at him. Except Vegeta. He only looked at his nearly empty plate of food, both of his gloved hands framing the plate, his visage as stern and cold and calculating as he would on the battlefield against a powerful enemy. As if the last of the food in front of him was going to turn into a body-eating sludge and devour him if he was to say a word, let alone glance in Goku’s direction.

He zeroed in on the body language. How Vegeta sat perfectly still and perfectly straight, with his back poised and strong, pressed against the extravagant chair with perfect posture only a prince of his caliber could pull off. How his gloved hands rested palms down on the table, giving away only the tiniest hint of a shake. How his eyes stayed wide and focused on what laid before him. How his jaw seemed set, almost like a chiseled statue, waiting, anticipating for the inevitable. And just like a stoic prince, he would take it on his chin, without anything said, without giving anything away.

To the rest of them, it was probably only a few meager seconds that passed. It was enough time for Goku to give up and give in to the question, with a small smile to the King, an equally small nod and a small voice to boot.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds like fun.”

Whatever resignation and disappointment he felt was dampened, just a little, when he caught the fleeting smile on Vegeta’s face at his response.

He remembered that smile, the look of utter relief on Vegeta’s face, as he wished Whis and Beerus goodbye later, after the breakfast. He barely remembered how the food tasted when he shoveled it all down his throat. It all settled wrong in his stomach and threatened to come right up as he saw his last attempt at an escape leave him in that translucent traveling box, rising into the sky and gone in a flash of light one quick blink later. There was no turning back now. For two weeks time, he would be stuck on this planet, with a culture, a language and a people he didn’t know and didn’t have any interest of knowing.

But as they ventured out of the city as a group to this bazaar, flanked side to side with armed guards, Goku focused on Vegeta and his reactions. How he lit up as he spoke in Sadalan with the King. How he laughed at something one of the twin princes said. How he pointed out various things and people and items that Goku had zero idea about with the princess Chikora. How he gestured in this guttural language to two of the soldiers that surrounded them with the poise and grace and command of a seasoned, well-trained prince. And Goku had to keep that as his focus.

He repeated one phrase in his mind, again and again, as they reached the bazaar. He caught Vegeta’s eye and his stomach did a flip at the pure, unadultered _joy_ on Vegeta’s face, and he harnessed that emotion, that visceral image, and burned it right into his brain, along with those words.

_It’s not about me._

***

There wasn’t much of a time in Goku’s life where he could remember feeling this out of place before. The only time he could viscerally remember was when he was adventuring with Bulma, back when he was living on his own in the wilderness and had no idea what a girl even looked like, nor that there was a world beyond the trees he lived amongst. But that felt so different then. Back then, he had the adventure of finding the Dragon Balls to distract him, along with the friends he made and the fights he fought along the way. He fit in on Yardrat, he fit in on Namek, he fit in everywhere. Mainly because he didn’t stay long in any place, and because most of the time, he was either training or fighting a bad guy. He didn’t need to acclimate to a culture or a society. The people there liked him and he liked them back.

But this. This was different. Even when he did have the rare occasions of feeling ‘out of place,’ none of what he had endured before bugged him like this. Nothing he went through in his whole past did anything bug him as much as being in the bazaar did, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of Saiyans and the _noise_ and sights and smells that came with it. 

This was all new. Too new. When Vegeta would stop to point at a person selling something in a colorful tent and say ”you make these too?” he didn’t get what that thing being sold was. When Vegeta would grab a piece of round or square-looking food off a cart and tell one of the princes, “this was my favorite fruit growing up,” or “my father hated these things,” he didn’t know what those things were. He didn’t get the sticks the Saiyan children played with inside white circles on the ground, or the paper-looking boxes they held in their hands as they flew in small, controlled circles. He didn’t get the food, the meats, the spices, the plants, the animals being sold or bartered for. None of the language made any sense, despite Goku trying as hard as he could to pick up on patterns here and there and fill in the gaps when they spoke.

Vegeta, to his credit, did turn to Goku and named some things while equating them to stuff he knew from home. “This is called _ta’ple_ , they’re very like our apples,” “these animals are like our cows, called _yi’komo_ ,” “they’re playing a game called _cil’cil_ , not far off from that hopscotch thing our sons played once,” and so on. But it was too much information at once. So much information, that Goku didn’t feel like that he retained a single thing by the time their trip was done and they were back in the palace again.

Luckily, he had a moment to himself before whatever banquet the King had planned later, if he retained _that_ information well enough. When they entered the palace again almost three hours later, there were talks of a ‘high holy day’ and ‘a week of celebrations’ and _that_ was enough to cause sheer panic to rise in Goku yet again, because the idea of having more banquets like the one yesterday, but now day after day, again and again, nearly made him want to scream—and _that too_ was a shock unto itself, because Goku truly couldn’t remember the last time, or any time really, he was _that_ afraid over something as mundane and welcoming and wholesome as a damned banquet.

Once he was back in the safety of his room, his legs gave away from the hours of anxiety and he crumpled to the ground into a sitting heap, right up against the broad wooden door. Probably for the first time in his life, he _craved_ the silence and the solitude. As much as he enjoyed going off and doing his own thing, he still loved being around people. But this? This planet? _These_ people? They were _not_ his people. He was no Saiyan. He was an Earthling stuck in Saiyan skin and clothing and despite his heritage and his race and his own latent abilities and powers, he was _not_ like them, and he probably never would be.

He ground the palms of his clammy hands against his tightly closed eyes. A kaleidoscope of colors flashed in time with images of Vegeta. Vegeta, smiling from ear to ear. Vegeta, telling a story of a past he didn’t know any idea about. Vegeta, laughing with the King, chatting with the royal children, being so… at ease. Relaxed.

Truly happy.

He hissed through gritted teeth.

_It’s not about me._

He slammed his fists on top of his quads.

_It’s not about me._

The back of his head hit the door, the sharp pain feeling good for a brief moment. His lungs burned, his chest heaved, his eyes screwed shut, and he hissed through his clenched teeth, pounding his fists against his quads one more time.

_It’s not about me..._

He didn’t feel any better the more he chanted those words to himself. Didn’t feel any better either when time passed and his legs stiffened and his ass went numb and his back twitched from staying in the same place for too long. Nothing felt better, not even when he decided to take a long, scalding hot bath in the gigantic tub in the bathroom, long enough that his skin pruned to the point of pain and he felt dehydrated and parched when he exited the cooling water.

As nice as the satin robe he found in the closet felt on his skin, as nice as the soft, plush bed cushioned his jittery bones, and as nice as it was to be blissfully in silence and solitude, nothing felt right. Absolutely nothing felt okay.

Goku wasn’t okay. At all.

Three small, succinct knocks startled Goku from where he sat. They sounded familiar to him, like the knocks from earlier in his day.

He fully expected the door to open without his say so. Instead, from behind the door, Chikora’s soft voice fluttered through. “Goku? May I come in?”

The urge to snap a _no_ came and went. After all, the princess didn’t repeat her actions from earlier today. She was asking permission instead.

“Sure,” he replied.

Like before, she barely opened the door. This time, though, only her head peeked in, with just a glimpse of her long fingers curling around the door’s edge. “How are you?”

He shrugged.

She face soured for the briefest of moments before it melted away into stoic nothingness, similar to what he’d see Vegeta do over the years whenever Goku said or did something that pissed or annoyed the man.

Chikora took a broad step inside the room, closing the door quietly behind her. “We are kin, Goku,” she said. “Speak freely with me.”

A resoundingly loud _no_ sucker-punched him right in his head, the sound and the power behind it so jarring that it caused Goku to visibly flinch and touch the space between his eyes for a moment.

Then the thoughts came, one after another. _Not with you. Not with anyone. I don’t matter. Nothing I feel matters. It’s not about me, it can’t be about me, I won’t let it be about me, I’ve done enough, okay, I’ve done enough and I don’t need to do anymore._ The pounding between his eyes spread like a low burning flame across to his temples and up. _I can’t do this anymore._

He felt his hands move away from his clammy face. Like an observer from the edges of time itself, disconnected from his own body, he watched his hands turn into tight fists, curling into the black fabric of the robe. He could feel the heat rising on his face right from his cheeks, the quickening of his breath. Urges to yell, urges to cry. To run, far, far away. 

The bed dipped before him.

Goku glanced up and met Chikora’s impassive, smooth face, so similar to Vegeta’s own. She sat before him at the farthest edge of the bed, giving him enough space, like she was observing the actions of a wounded animal. Twinkling jewels hung like teardrops from her ears, matching the cascade of crystals that adorned her wrists and neck. Her two hands folded over her lap neatly, her back straight—like Vegeta’s would do—and her face impassive.

“Prince Vegeta told us you hit your head as a child,” she said.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be extremely difficult being here.”

He felt his lips twitch up into a very small, very sad smile.

She returned the same sad smile. “Honestly, I cannot help but commend you then. I don’t know if I would be as brave as you are, considering the circumstances.”

He shrugged. Cleared his throat. “S’okay.”

“How did you end up on your planet… Earth, was it?”

“Yeah, Earth. I was sent there as a child originally to conquer it so it could be sold off. I don’t know how old I was. Young enough, I guess.” His gaze left hers to look at his pale hands. How they shook, just a little bit. “If it wasn’t for that hit, I probably would’ve done it.”

“But…” His fingers dug into the robe’s fabric at the incredulous tone in her voice. “You were a _child_. You can’t have possibly received any type of programming of that caliber and intensity.”

“It’s what they did.”

“No, I cannot believe that. I refuse, because _we_ can’t even do that to our own. Saiyan children are impossible to control at any age of programming—‘schooling,’ from what Prince Vegeta says, you use that terminology. If what my father says is true, our universes are truly twins, and there is no reasonable chance that your Saiyans found a way to program an unruly Saiyan child to follow a strict a protocol such as planet purging.”

He stilled his wild fingers, letting them stay in the fabric of the robe. He ducked his head, curling a little into himself, sinking a bit deeper into the bed, hiding as of himself beneath his unruly bangs.

His vision blurred. His eyes stung.

Goku croaked out, “ _I_ could have done it.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because _I killed him_.” A small tear of fabric echoed in the chamber. He stilled his motions, staring at the small hole he created in the robe with his own two hands like a flimsy piece of paper. “I killed my Grandpa Gohan. I killed the man who adopted me and took me in and raised me when I had no idea all because I didn’t listen to him and looked at the moon and…” He sniffled. His vision cleared a little bit as his eyelids fluttered.

Chikora whispered, “The Oozaru?”

He nodded. Sniffled again.

“You nor Vegeta have a tail.”

“Removed permanently when I was a kid. Vegeta’s was cut off when we met, during our first fight.” He wiped at his eyes, sniffing once, twice, until he felt his vision was clear and his throat felt clear enough too. “Even before that happened, I was a wild and crazy kid. I fought him and bit him and did all these mean things to him. But I got too out of control one time and I accidentally landed in a ravine, where I hit my head hard on a tree branch. Grandpa Gohan nursed me back to health and ever since that moment, it was like I was a totally different kid. I didn’t act out or anything. I was nice. Yeah, I lost my memories and my ‘programming’ like you call it, but it’s for the best I did. If I was that much of a monster as a kid, what kind of person would I have been if I didn’t have that accident, you know? What could I have done if I transformed and I did that when I _didn’t_ have that accident?” He felt his hands itching to grab at his biceps, to hold himself together, but he resisted, flinging him to the sides of his body, only to dig his fingers deep into the sheets itself. “I really could’ve done it. I really could have—”

“ _Hi’nai!_ ”

Goku jerked his head up at the shout.

In that moment, she reminded him of Chichi, ready to reprimand him for a chore undone, or another piece of silverware accidentally broken. But her snarl, her glare—that screamed of a female Vegeta, a royal Saiyan woman who would slap him hard and had the power to back it up. Even now, she held her composure, her arms still neatly folded over her lap, but there was a tremor now throughout her body. A tremor visibly laced by sheer rage.

Her next words punched in the air. “You. Were. A. Child.”

“Ah—”

“ _Hi’nai’kr o’tash._ A child. On a distant, far away planet, without your parents, without your people to guide you. While we evolved beyond the need or use of the Oozaru, we recorded the effects of what the process did to our elders, and most importantly, to our young. Oozaru amplified our power astronomically, but the risk of mind loss and mind damage was too great. The ability to even control that Oozaru form was relegated to the most strongest of minds. Even a supremely gifted child would be unable to control that form.

“ _And_ to add onto that, just because you were an unruly child who acted out against your adopted guardian—the same way any Saiyan _h’o’tash_ would to their own parent—does _not_ mean you would go on a murderous rampage and _commit genocide_ against an entire people. How you got that into your mind, I do not know, but that ends here and now. Father spoke about the Saiyans in your universe and how they very much acted like real descendants of the clan Vegeta. But the Prince mentioned to us a brother of his own, who acts _vastly_ different from him, a soft-hearted Saiyan that would look positively normal on our world of Sadala but an obvious outcast on the world of Vegeta. Are you saying that _he_ could’ve killed mindlessly too, as a child? That he would’ve committed mass murder?

“Even if the programming given to you in your pod was as terrible as instructing a child to kill an entire species, you cannot and _should not_ assume that you would’ve ended up following the programming given to you in your pod, especially since you based it on the fact that you acted like a typical _h’o’tash_. Saiyans are no good at listening or following orders, especially not children fresh from the nursing pods. _You_ see what I and my father go through disciplining the twins. Saiyan children, especially Saiyan boys, all act like little monsters, with some worse than others. But for you to say you would’ve ended up like that as an adult, that it was almost a _blessing_ that you injured yourself and forgot your memories and ‘schooling,’ else you would’ve ended up a mass murderer? It’s horrifying.

“As we Sadalans grow from children into adulthood, we learn our heritage, our ways and our culture, and it’s in the process of our programming—again, what you call ‘schooling’—that we learn who we truly are at heart. I truly believe that would have happened to you too. It appears to me that the accident only brought out what was inside of you the whole time, what would’ve come out naturally as you matured into a full adult Saiyan. And what saddens me most is that I can already tell just by the look on your face that you do not believe me. It pains me to see, because I do not know how I can convince you that this part of you—a great, big part of who you are—is not what you think it is.”

“My own _brother_ kidnapped my son,” Goku blurted out. He didn’t feel a part of his own body, like he was floating elsewhere and the room began closing in around him the more he spoke, his voice jittery here and there. “I just learned I was an alien, and instead of asking for me help, or embracing me, or _something_ , he just… just _kidnapped_ my eldest son and used that as leverage to make me join him, Vegeta and Nappa. My friend and I then worked together to kill him, which ended up killing me too in the process, and after I came back, that’s when I met Vegeta, and he killed his fellow Saiyan Nappa—so no.” He shook his head. Could barely feel the bed beneath him, his own skin, a roaring sound filling up his ears. “I don’t believe you. I _can’t_ believe you. No Saiyan can change—”

“Except Vegeta.”

Time froze. He himself froze in place.

Quicksand slow, agonizingly slow, he watched Chikora smirk at him, akin to a certain Saiyan prince. “Vegeta told us all about his past while you rested in here the last few hours. He seems to have changed.”

“V-Veg…” The room blurred again, not for the wetness in his vision, but the sudden fuzziness instead, a fuzziness that closed around Chikora like the way his own throat closed. He fought against that tightness with a sharp, strong cough, clearing his throat. “H-He’s different.”

“How so? By your logic, _he_ shouldn’t be any different than the other two you mentioned. _He_ wasn’t hit on the head as a child. _He_ didn’t lose his programming.”

“He…” His voice petered off with a whisper of: “He just… is.” Goku finally looked away and finally shut his eyes to boot, finding safety in the darkness of his lids. He gave into the urge to hold himself and wrapped his arms around his torso, his chin resting on the top of his broad chest. And the words just spilled out of him: “When we fought, my friend Krillin had the opportunity to kill him, but I stopped him, because I hadn’t fought anyone that strong before and I needed him to stay alive so I could fight him again. Plus, he just…” He shook his head. Shrugged. “I don’t know. I just, I had a feeling he could change. He could learn mercy.” He chuckled, halfhearted, sad, resigned. “I don’t know if Vegeta told you this, but I have a tendency to spare people’s lives when I probably shouldn’t.”

“Yet you didn’t spare your own brother’s.”

He shook his head no.

“And Nappa?”

Again, he shook his head no.

“So they didn’t deserve to live, but Vegeta did.”

He stayed still.

Heaviness in the room. His own body felt heavy, and tired, and exhausted. All of this was more exhausting than the toughest spar against Vegeta on a really good day. His head pounded all over, from the space between his eyebrows, to his temples, driving all the way to the back of his head—right where the old bump rested.

His eyes pulsed, and burned, and stung. His arms strained. His legs tingled from numbness. Numbness, truly, everywhere in his body, from head to toe. Heavy, labored breathing, mixed with instable pieces of inhales and equally instable exhales.

Then: “You are more Saiyan than you know, Goku.”

A hand rested on top of his thigh. He spared a glance at it and found himself fascinated by the twinkling rings on Chikora’s slender hand, how the light played off the crystals there.

Goku focused on those crystals as she spoke. “We Sadalans do not believe in killing for the sake of killing, and we program this into every child at a young age, but that’s not to say every Saiyan on this planet agrees with our line of thinking. I think it stems from the philosophy of the Vegeta clan from long ago, and what you’ve said does support my theory, but I digress. It boils down to this: some Saiyans believe the best way to judge someone’s character is in their actions, with the greatest action of all being mercy. Most of us on this planet agree with that philosophy, and I know you clearly agree too. But Goku. Not every Saiyan on Sadala agrees with this. There’s some Saiyans that believe the best way to judge someone’s character is to look at strength. This much is clear: Raditz stole your son to blackmail you. Nappa murdered all your friends. All of that was terrible and judgement seems clear to feel zero remorse for their deaths.” That hand receded from his vision. “But tell me, Goku. Those two.” He voice dipped an octave. “They were very much weaker than Vegeta, _k’ne_? To the point that it didn’t excite you to fight them?”

The implication there gutted Goku than any blow.

He jerked his head up. Shook his head. “I…” Shook it even harder. “No.” Felt his body recede into the sheets, into the bed. “ _No!”_ The whole room turned into pure fuzziness, his breathing all but gone. “I don’t… I’m not like that—”

“But that’s okay!” Reassuring tone. Chikora’s voice. He focused on it, on the fuzzy outline of her slender body. “Really! It’s _okay_.” It sounded safe. Sounded like Chikora said. Okay. It was okay. “It’s what makes a society healthy, Goku. Truly. When we can disagree and do so without harming someone else for what they believe, we all prosper.” She came into focus the more she spoke. “You might have forgotten your programming from your universe’s Saiyan culture, but it was there all along deep within you, and it’s _more than okay_ that it seems different from what you believe outwardly. I’ve studied so much of our history in preparation for your arrival that I can say this with utter confidence.” She came fully into focus as she smiled at him, reminding him of Bulma in that exact moment, and how she would explain things to him as a child to even now, without any judgement whatsoever. “We Saiyans are complex, emotional creatures. We can spare lives as well as take them. We can value mercy and forgiveness in the same breath as valuing strength and power. We can fight to the death and fight for each other, and we can fight against each other and fight for the sake of fighting. Passion runs hard through our veins. We live as we die: to the best of our ability and to the inches of our life, no matter what.” One of her neatly folded hands landed on his thigh again, patting it once, twice. Resting it there. Squeezing the flesh under the satin robe. “Goku, find _peace_ with this. You _are_ a Saiyan, that the accident you suffered from took _nothing_ away from you. I can see that you struggle with this information now, and what better time to process this but during this holy week of remembrance on our planet. This is a time where we as a people remember where we came from. Not just our parents or ancestors, but who we were in our past. We think of our loved ones as much as we think of our actions of previous times. We reflect and reminisce and recollect everything and anything that we can, all leading up to the last day where we pick the one thing we wish to be most grateful for and honor it in a beautiful ceremony. It’s a perfect time for you to connect not only with your people but with your own self.”

It came out before he could stop himself: “I’m not a Saiyan.”

The comfort and hope Chikora showcased in her whole demeanor died in an instant when she frowned, accompanied with a sigh of his name, “ _Goku_ —”

“No, you don’t get it.” He couldn’t stop himself. “I’m not.” He didn’t want to, either. “I have no memories. None of this ‘programming.’ I’m not like you or Vegeta or anyone else here. I can’t be. I don’t know anything. I don’t _remember_ anything. I don’t belong here. I can’t participate in this week, I can’t do anything, I can’t, I’m not—” He stopped himself short, gritting his teeth as he jerked his head away to look at the window and the waning sunlight outside. 

The words on the tip of his tongue died off, but they echoed in his mind, again and again.

_I’m not enough._

Even though he wasn’t looking at her anymore, Goku could feel her look from her spot on the bed. He felt himself examined from head to toe and from the inside out the more time passed. Analyzed. Dissected. Taken apart, with a little chance of being put together. He could’ve demanded she left. Probably would’ve listened to him if he politely asked her to leave. Had every ability in his body to easily throw her out of the room. But he ignored every baser instinct, every piece of him that screamed either to fight or to fly, and he put all of his attention and focus to the world outdoors, to the breeze, to the sunlight, to the small sounds of a city still bustling and thriving despite the day coming to its end.

He felt her leave the bed, the loss of body weight and body heat from nearby the bed’s edge. Heard the rustling of clothes, the clinking of light jewelry. Clicks of heels on stone pavement.

Goku felt her presence come much closer to his own from where he sat at the base of the bedframe, curled up against it like he did the door much earlier.

A gentle hand rested against his bicep, close to touching one of his own hands.

Beside him, Chikora spoke, close to his ear. “Your planet was destroyed. Your people eradicated. You came to a new world and lost all of your memories, but were able to overcome those odds and hold onto the essence of your people, essentially the best of them, in strength of heart and in strength of body, all to then come face to face in a world you don’t know, with a culture, a language—” A chuckle. “And two rotten as hell snot-nosed little princes who pulled the wool over your eyes and a complete misunderstanding by one of our strongest warriors.” The hand on his bicep patted him once. Squeezed hard. “And not once would I, nor the King, nor even Vegeta would’ve held it against you if you had left earlier today with Lord Beerus. That, dear Goku, is the truest meaning of the word _n’dra’ge_ that I have ever met.” She let his bicep go. “The strength of your heart would make Soli proud.”

He rubbed at the place she touched, unable to tear his blurry gaze away from the waning sunlight. “T-Thanks, I guess.”

“We only bestow _n’dra’ge_ upon Saiyans who have been through so much and have come out of the other side stronger than before. Saiyans who have endured so many countless trials and tribulations that a weaker Saiyan would’ve buckled under the pressure, or even destroyed. They’re the most prized creations of the warrior goddess Soli. You will learn more about her tonight during the banquet and throughout the week, along with the other gods and goddess of our religion.” He heard the click of footsteps retreating. “This will be a good week for you. Grandpa Gohan should be remembered this week. Him, as well as your parents.”

He swallowed against his dry throat. More blurriness. “My parents,” he whispered.

“I know you don’t remember them.” The door to his chambers opened almost too loudly for his liking. “But it would be a nice sentiment, _kn’e_?” More clicking heels. “See you tonight. And don’t worry about my brothers. I’ll keep a close eye on them.”

Goku didn’t reply.

The door shut quietly behind her.

Outside his window, the world transformed into a reddish-orange hue, akin to the thousands of sunsets he experienced living on Mt. Paozu. He could hear the cry of birds, the rustling of trees, paired with the sounds of the Saiyan world and its thousands of people.

His stomach growled at him, reminding Goku of his current state of affairs: clothed in a black satin robe, in a room that was given to him, and Vegeta, on a pretense of a horrible mistake, with no other food in his belly, save the time spent hours ago at breakfast, when the last chance of escape left him.

And worse still—that they _knew_ he wanted to escape. Or, at least, the crown princess clearly discovered his deepest desire—and that they wouldn’t have blamed him if he left. He wouldn’t have embarrassed Vegeta. He wouldn’t have done whatever potential slight against them. 

He didn’t need to be here after all.

Vegeta’s smiling face flickered across his vision.

Goku closed his weary eyes.

***

Some time passed.

Another knock on the door woke him from his small nap. As he gathered his bearings, rolling onto his side in the direction of the chamber door, a Saiyan in less decorative, neutral-like clothing entered, bowing right to him, onyx clothing draped over his arms.

“King Sadala has requested you wear this particular outfit tonight,” the Saiyan said. Three more entered behind him, carrying trays of food. “He has also brought you the meal you missed earlier, in case you were hungry.”

He muttered a miserably weak, “Thanks.”

They left him alone as quickly as they arrived. He stared at the outfit laid out on the bed the entire time he ate. Nothing he shoved into his mouth tasted good. Warm, yes, and filling, but bland. Tasteless.

There was nothing wrong with the clothes. Gold straps attached to heavy silver plating and an ivory underpiece, with three long pieces of leather fanning out over the pelvic region and a gold belt around the waist. Underneath that laid a black undersuit with a length that would end around his ankles. Onyx boots with gold trimmings rested near the desk on the other side of the room. It all was in similar style to the outfit of the Royal Guard, except for the colors themselves, and the one very obvious addition: the blood red crest that Vegeta had on his own armor when they arrived.

He then turned his attention to the orange gi that laid on the floor of the bathroom, wet and wrinkled from head to toe. A quick ki blast could’ve fixed the wetness. Not the wrinkles, but it would’ve been enough. Presentable. Somewhat presentable. An attempt. They would’ve been understanding if he said no. The princess said so. She knew how he felt. They must’ve known too. Probably the rest of the court as well.

Goku stared longer at the gi, the rest of his meal forgotten. It would’ve been so easy to fix. To slip into the gi and feel the comforting cotton over his skin. Familiar and welcoming and so very _him_ , because it was part of him, part of his life, its history, its past, everything that came with it. What he knew. What Goku knew and was more than content to know for the rest of his life.

He looked back at the outfit, zeroing in on the blood red crest over the left breastplate.

Three arrows formed a strong V, with the middle line drawing straight south to a semicircle with sharp edges. Two thick lines rested in its middle, equally distanced from the other.

A symbol of Vegeta.

Goku sighed.

_Not about me._

It took half an hour to dress. Figuring out the buckles to the armor took him a while and he was afraid he would need to call upon a servant for help. The relief he felt wen he finally figured it out was palpable.

Soon a guard knocked on the door. He followed him down the same path he did earlier in his day, but instead of one straight line and a turn, Goku found himself unable to discern an easy path. Rows upon rows of candelabras, pillars, votives and torches lined the walls, its shelves and various pieces of furniture. The light casted heavy chiaroscuro shadows on the paintings he passed by, adding a depth to the scenes of mayhem and warfare, and a menacing dimension to the portraits of past Kings and Queens. No light from the outside world lit up the stained glass. Only a few trickles of color peaked onto the ground from the occasional flickers of strong candlelight.

Two double doors greeted him at the end of the next long hallway. The guard guided Goku up to it, where they opened from the inside, and a boisterous world opened up to him, one full of—this time— _dancing_ Saiyans on a wide open floor. They moved as one with a grace and timing that seemed otherworldly and almost beautiful, had Goku’s throat and lungs not constricted in sheer panic at the thought that he, too, would have to join in.

The guard kept walking, so he continued following. He caught the end goal in sight: a whole row of burgundy plush thrones of various heights on a riser made of crushed dark red, where all the members of the Royal Family sat and enjoyed the show. The Princess nodded to him the closer he came. The twins, of course, glared at him. The King grinned from ear-to-ear from where he sat, right in the middle, sitting in the most lavish of all the thrones, with two empty, smaller, less ornate thrones adjacent to his own.

“ _Wakale_ , Goku!” He gestured to the furthest of the two thrones. “You came just in time.” Then gestured out to the crowd. “The Prince is putting on a clinic.”

Goku froze at the base of the steps leading to his seat. “A-A clinic?”

“Aii, he’s putting even the most seasoned of us royals to shame. To think, your Saiyans practiced the _echu batwa_ as well.” He gestured wildly to the empty seat. “Sit, sit!”

The guard beside Goku motioned him up the steps. His wobbly legs dragged up each step until he plopped into the chair unceremoniously. Down the line, he caught the twins snicker at him, then instantly stop. He turned to the side and found a sharp glare from the crown princess directed right at the two boys, a glare that softened to a gentle, sympathetic look when she met Goku’s eye.

“I still cannot believe it,” The King said, causing Goku to look at him instead. “It’s _perfect_. Every step, every movement…” He shook his head, fixated on the crowd before him. “Flawless.”

Goku followed his line of sight.

A gasp slipped out when he saw Vegeta.

He, too, dressed in the same attire Goku wore, but with two noticeable additions: a red, flowing cape, attached to both of the gold straps, and a thick piece of jewelry around his neck, like an amulet. It was a dark purple, the stone trimmed in gold, hanging from a thick gold chain.

And he was… dancing. No— _commanding_ the dance. It was like a conductor of an orchestra, guiding the symphony through one of the most complicated pieces of music ever created, but doing so without breaking a sweat or showing a single shred of emotion. The only reason why everyone was so in sync, so in tuned, was because of Vegeta.

He stood in the middle of the sea of Saiyans, dancing with a woman who wore a dress similar to the crown princess, but with much less jewelry. Her hair flew here and there as Vegeta passed her off to another partner, only to take another. While everyone seemed to look at their chosen partner, they didn’t take their eyes off Vegeta either. Because he was the true leader, the one to check on if they were actually staying in tune, in key, in time and in step, all with the music coming from the other side of the room.

It didn’t look like any dance Goku had seen before. If anything, it looked like an intricate, long kata that seemed to never end. It repeated in places, changed in others, but it was fluid, smooth, precise. Like something Vegeta had been practicing his entire life, something he already had in his back pocket and just felt like breaking out because he was in the mood for it. It was mesmerizing. Soothing, in a way, watching Vegeta glide across the floor like a fresh stream of cool water trickling down morning rocks.

 _Beautiful_.

Goku’s face burned from cheek to cheek.

“You know, Goku.” Hearing the King’s low voice was a welcome reprieve from whatever feelings Goku had, and he yanked his attention away from Vegeta right to him and listened in. “When Vegeta told me his mother taught him this dance as a child, I had to have him show me. I know our universes are twins, but the fact that he didn’t know magic like Forced Spirit Fussion until the Yardrats gave me pause. See, this dance, the _echu batwa_ , is in honor of the goddess Soli. She is a warrior goddess and this dance not only is in honor of her, but to invoke her spirit and her magic. This is why we only break it out once a year during our week of remembrance, called the _m’na’kubula_ , where we remember where we came from.”

“Ch—Chikora told me.”

The King grinned. “Good girl. Then you know how important this week is for us, k’ne?”

He resisted the urge to scratch the back of his head. “I think so…?”

“ _Suk ye’hala_ , I’ll explain. Soli is one of two warrior goddess of our planet, the other being Tor. Of the two, Soli is the one most associated with magic. She is the one we pray to when we are in battle and all else has failed, when we are lost and have no hope. She is the one who guides us by instilling the pride and the power of our ancestors into us, the one who gave the first Super Saiyan God his powers in order to save our people from destruction. In honor of all she has given to us as a people, we praise her for a week, the _m’na’kubula_ , by remembering all that we are, all that we were and all that is. By the end of the week, when we each pick the one memory that we will honor the most for the rest of the year, it is said she will bestow us good fortune, strong heart, clear minds and the power we need at our most desperate time. But before our week can begin, we must invoke her spirit and pray to her, in hopes that she will guide us as a people to our most sacred, most needed memory. Some Saiyans repeat that memory, because it truly is most sacred. Some Saiyans change it every year. And some Saiyans search almost a whole lifetime to find the right one. No matter what, this week teaches us that our memories are invaluable, our actions—good and bad—can give way to truth, and that even in death, our ancestors can impart wisdom we didn’t know we possessed.” He smiled. “Now do you understand?”

Goku’s throat tightened too much. It hurt to breathe.

His vision started turning fuzzy again.

He only nodded.

“Brilliant! And that’s what’s astounding about Vegeta knowing the _echu batwa_. I could’ve sworn a place full of anti-magic users would never invoke such a dance, let alone celebrate the goddess Soli in such a way.” The King’s smile turned wistful. He leaned back into his throne, returning his attention to the dance. “Yet another reason to mourn the loss of your planet.”

Goku nodded again. The King looked blurry to him all of a sudden.

Things felt fuzzy too.

Heat. His face felt hot. His body felt hot, and weird, and off.

He blinked again, and again, and again, and nothing changed. _Nothing_ felt okay—

“M’yo Ve’ho?” The princess’s soft voice cut through the heavy fog surrounding Goku’s head. “May I borrow your esteemed guest for a minute?”

The King’s pleased shouts faded away. So did the dance floor, all the Saiyans, the throne he sat on. A strong hand guided him into dimness, to darkness, to doors, to candlelight, to a hall, to more doors, to the outside— _how did I get outside_ —and then that strong hand pressed something into his palm. Something cool. Something soothing.

“Goku.”

He blinked again, and again. This time, he could see Princess Chikora, her face framed by a light fuzziness, but she looked sharper than before. Moonlight bathed her soft features, the jewels she wore twinkling like stars in the slivery light.

Another insistent push into his hand. Goku rose it up. Looked at it.

Numb. Pale. Shaky hands. One shaky hand, around a palm-sized, rough looking stone. Similar in shape to the one Vegeta wore around his neck. No band however. No gold.

“Listen to me,” Chikora said. “Listen and then go, because I will not allow you to say no.”

Chikora’s hands slid over his own. Soon, a silver light glowed from them, going right into the stone. Goku’s eyes widened, the light and the stone reflecting in the pools of his irises.

The light glistened as Chikora said, “Near the center of our whole planet, in the thickest of all our forests and on the tallest of all our mountains, stands the oldest temple in our history, one that has lasted since the days of King Sadala the First. It is the home of our most holiest and wisest of priestesses, the Lady Kohltavi. She will help you.”

The light flickered away. He watched Chikora fold his fingers over the stone and held it tight, squeezing it hard enough, it made Goku winced a tiny bit.

“You _must_ do this, _n’dra’ge_ ,” she said. “Even now you refuse to see what is happening to you, and I cannot let this continue.” 

He looked up at her. “W-What?”

She shook her head no, stepping a good distance away from him. “You won’t be able to sense her with ki, so the stone will guide you to her temple. I infused it with a small amount of my magic. Whether or not she will allow you in is up to her. But I cannot see her turning you away. Not now.”

Goku looked at the stone. Looked back at her. “But… the party?”

“They will understand. Trust me.” She pointed out in the distance as she retreated back to the opened wooden door. “Now go, please.”

“Chikora—”

“ _Go!_ ”

In that moment, she sounded like the worst of Bulma and ChiChi as one, and his baser instincts kicked in, ki flaring and his body flinging itself high into the air. The palace and the city turned into a small speck behind him before it disappeared completely behind a thicket of grey clouds.

***

As confused as he felt, it did feel good flying away from that whole place. The fuzziness and blurriness and the tightness in his throat and heavy weight on his chest—all that lifted from him, erased and dissipated the more he flew. What helped was the view he saw the more he found himself flying closer to the center of the planet. Away from the city center and the palace, he discovered other towns, other places, other terrains. Dark green rolling fields melted away to dark deserts, the silver moonlight illuminating the sand below and turning it into a sea of crystals. Then rows and rows of jagged mountain ranges, where he caught wild Sadalan animals drinking from a cool running river.

In all of this, there were the clusters of towns that lived on these terrains, the light from each one catching his eye. Some in the mountainside. Some on top of hills. Some nestled against riversides or oceansides, and some reminded Goku of his own home, where they hid amongst thickets of tall trees. All of them looked relatively uniform. Same building sizes, relatively similar height, some sort of light burning from inside dome-shaped homes. But it looked alive. Thriving. Like any type of city or town or village Goku would fly over back home on Earth.

The closer he reached the center, the more the stone in his hand grew brighter. It pulsed like a beacon, or a lighthouse’s warning light to sailors. It flickered faster, brighter, the more the terrain changed and the more south he went. What he thought was south. Possibly west. He couldn’t tell. If Chikora was correct and he wouldn’t be able to sense her ki, then this was all he had to guide him.

His journey abruptly ended without much fanfare. He almost passed the temple itself, the building enclosed amongst trees that seemed to burst out of the highest mountain top like cavern crystals. What tipped him off was the sudden and abrupt loss of light from the stone in his hand. Goku looked down and caught a light coming from inside the trees, at the very center of the mountain top range. The more he descended, the more the building and its structure came into view.

It didn’t look as opulent or extravagant as anything in the palace, nor did it look as plain and uniform as the other buildings on the planet. Pillars of what looked like marble made up the exterior, the base of each one held by a square slab. Between the pillars stood walls of vines, flowers and herbs, held together by wood and mesh-like material. The top of the building was flat, simple, a fat slab of marble on top. But the sheer size of it grew, and grew, and _grew_ until Goku’s feet touched the ground and he stood in front of it, towered over by its grand size.

There was no discernable door. He stood in front, in the middle, where he assumed one would be, and there was nothing.

His feet shuffled across the dirt, the ground crackling and crunching underneath his boots. The more he looked around, the more he couldn’t find a single gap in the vines or flowers.

He leaned in a few times, pushing a few vines away with his hands, careful not to pull or tear anything. Still nothing.

“Hello?” More boot crunching soil. More peaking for a way inside. “Anyone home?” He went back to the middle of the building, his head moving here and there, a side of his hand even coming to rest over his eyes. “Hellooo?”

“I thought I sensed a royal.”

“GAH!” Goku jumped in place, dropping the stone from his hands. It fell to the ground with a large clunk. He jerked around and found an old woman in staring at him, her arms crossed over her chest. The hand on his head landed over his heart. “You scared me!”

The woman gave him a look over, a scowl forming. She wore harem pants and top, both in a rich purple, her wild long hair as black as her eyes. Multiple layers of jewelry and crystals hung from every piece of her body, from her ears to her wrists to her neck, down to her ankles and bare feet, even to her nose, a ring hooked around the left nostril with a ruby at the end.

“You’re not from here,” the Lady Kohltavi said. She looked down at the ground, right at the stone Goku dropped, then back to him. “Who gave you that, Saiyan?”

“Oh! Princess Chikora. She said it’d help me get here but not inside, and she was right!” He chuckled, offering a hand to her. “I’m Goku.”

“No you’re not.”

He blinked. “… Uhh—”

“And my star pupil wouldn’t hand over her own stone to someone like you unless it was important.” Her bare feet kicked up dirt as she came towards Goku and crouched down to pick up that stone with both her hands. The light returned as she did, a bright silvery light that casted thick shadows on her wrinkled face. For a brief moment, her eyes closed, and the light stopped like a flick of a switch. Her scowl transformed into a deep frown then. “Hn. I see.”

“See? See what?” His face lit up, his mouth forming a small ‘o.’ “Did she send you a message with that? How’d she do that? I just thought it was a lantern or something since she said it’d guide me here but I sensed it had a lot of energy in it so—”

His next words died off when he heard the visceral sound of a door opening behind him. When he turned around, he not only found a golden double door that hadn’t been there, with its doors wide open and multiple vines swarming around it, but the woman as well, who had somehow, someway, transported herself over there, almost instantaneously.

She gestured him inside with one hand. “Come.”

He couldn’t help himself. “Did you just do Instant Transmission?” He caught up to her in a flash, his questions spilling out like a dam. “How did you learn it? Did you go to Yardrat? When did you go? Oh my God, do you know Forced Spirit Fission too? Who taught you—?!”

“ _Sh’a’tuo._ ”

It took a moment for his brain to catch up, because he could hear his own voice speak in his head, and he could feel his lips still moving, but there was no sound. No actual sound came out of his mouth anymore.

Goku’s hands flew up to his throat. His mouth. His eyes bugged out as he stared at Lady Kohltavi, who glared right at him while placing the stone on top of a golden mantle that seemingly came out of nowhere.

“It’s temporary,” she said. “Enough so you can learn to shut up and listen.”

She spun her wrinkled fingers in the air, forming a semi circle, and Goku found himself pushed backwards, right into a wooden chair. It was then he noticed how plain and empty the whole room felt. As large as it looked inside, it appeared downright cramped inside. Cramped, and utterly barren. There were no paintings, no furniture. Just the two of them, a golden mantle, torches lining the walls, the stone and two wooden chairs.

Lady Kohltavi pulled up that other chair, taking a seat in front of Goku. “In this place, during this time, my powers are at their absolute peak. If it was any other time, judging by the power I sense inside you, I have no doubt you would be the one in charge here.” She crossed her arms again. “But since you are _not_ , I’ll be the one asking the questions. Now. I’ll give you your voice back, but you are not to speak unless it is to answer me. Understand, Saiyan?”

He nodded.

She whispered, “ _Shu’ta’o_ ,” and he could almost feel an invisible hand release his throat. Goku guided a palm up to the jugular, rubbing it up and down before sliding it to the back of his neck and massaging the clammy skin there. He opened his mouth, a thanks on the tip of his tongue, but shut it just as quickly.

For the first time since their meeting, Lady Kohltavi almost seemed to smile at him. Almost. “First question. _Vu te’tugama_ , Saiyan. Your birth name.”

“Kakarot.”

“Where are you from?”

“Earth—and, uh, Universe 7. I’m not from here.”

“Obviously not. What do you seek from me?”

“Well, Chikora told me to see you.”

“Because?”

“She said I was doing something to myself and she didn’t like what she saw.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

The attempt of a smile died in an instant. She scowled again, and it looked angrier and much more intimidating than before. “ _Fr’jho’ir_ ,” she hissed. “I allow no lies in my home.”

Goku frowned. “I’m not?”

“ _Fr’jho’ir!_ ”

“I’m not! I honestly don’t know—” And _again_ he lost his voice. Unlike before, no panic rose from him when it happened. Instead he growled, shooting daggers in his glare right at the woman before him.

She, too, glared right back at him. “I will give you one last try, Saiyan, before I kick you out.” She leaned forward. “What do you seek from me?”

The vice around his throat left him again. He knew he could speak again. He could also leave. Despite Kohltavi saying she was most powerful right now, Goku knew he could take control back. He didn’t have to be here. Didn’t need to listen to Chikora. Didn’t need to take the stone. Didn’t have to do this, _any_ of this. He could’ve been gone already, back at home, back on Mount Paozu, listening to Goten, smelling Chichi’s food, checking up on the animals, going fishing, play with his granddaughter, visit Gohan and Videl, work the fields, spar with Vegeta—

_Oh._

In front of him, Kohltavi’s hard glare seemed to soften. Just a little.

He looked down, away from her face, to focus on her bare feet on the clay tiled ground.

This was all for Vegeta. Everything was for him. Goku knew this. When he learned that Vegeta accepted the invitation for the two of them, he was pissed at first, but going to a new planet to meet new fighters—he couldn’t say no to that. He didn’t even feel panicked or afraid the first time Planet Sadala came into view from the traveling cube with Whis and Beerus. Not even when everyone was speaking a language he didn’t know, eating food he never had, drinking things he never drank, talking about people and places and things he had no idea about. It was exciting, new, full of possibilities and adventure. And in the span of twenty-four hours, his sense of wonder turned into a sense of dread. Fear. Panic. Needing to get away. Needing to escape.

The banquet. The big, gigantic, horrible misunderstanding about mates. That breakfast today. The bazaar after. Chikora’s conversation with him. Grandpa Gohan. Raditz. Nappa.

His parents.

“Kakarot.”

He looked back up. Lady Kohltavi no longer glared at him. Her arms didn’t cross anymore either. Her whole demeanor had changed from a hostile one into a gentle, almost nurturing one.

“Please,” she implored. “Tell me what you seek.”

It hurt to talk. To admit it aloud. But a weight lifted from him when Goku finally said the truth: “My memories.”

Without a beat missed, Lady Kohltavi rose from her chair to stand before Goku. Her outstretched arms reached for his head, her wrinkled palms framing the side of his temples. “You will need to give me permission to enter your mind. From your _umoya_ , I can tell you’ve done telepathy before, _k’ne_?”

He nodded.

“Then close your eyes.”

Skin touched skin.

In that moment, it hit Goku that no one had ever read his mind before. He had done it before, but no one had ever done it to him. Then he could feel a presence inside him, gentle, calming in a way. Not prodding. Just asking permission. And the urge to protect, to push out, suddenly rose up. The need to fight. The need to get away, push away, hide, not allow, not see, couldn’t see—

But he stopped himself. Goku forced himself to clear his mind, to steady his breath and fall into a meditative state that he needed for himself more than she did. _Not about me_ , he thought, and the presence in his mind, he could just see it, visibly, behind his lids, feel it inside his body, how that presence seemed to radiate a deeply disappointed frown.

It was different, being the one on the opposite end. He sometimes wondered what it would be like, being the one who’s mind was entered. Her hands felt soft, warm. He could feel her presence in his mind journeying through like a passenger looking out a moving window rather than a conductor at the front of the train. It eased any potential worries or concerns, helped Goku stay calm during the process.

As soon as it began, he could feel her retreat away from his mind, piece by piece, almost like _she_ was one who was afraid. Not out of any fear of himself, that he could tell. Nor was it for her own self. More like, she left his mind, little by little, almost tip-toeing away, like one false move and she would disturb the peace he felt inside, a peace he manifested and controlled with his strong meditation practice. But it seemed… sad. Very sad.

When the hands finally left his temples and he re-opened his eyes, he found that profound sadness right in front of him. Lady Kohltavi didn’t hold it back, and it caught Goku off guard for a moment because of the spit-and-vinegar style of attitude this woman had when they first met seemed to be gone, for now.

“ _Ku’sela t’au n’dra’ge_ ,” she said, turning away from him.

“What?”

“I can help you.” Lady Kohltavi walked to the mantle where the stone rested. “Find yourself blessed, Kakarot. Not only do I possess the spell that can slowly unearth your memories, but you come to me during Soli’s holy week, the exact time when the spell is its most powerful.” She picked it up with both hands. “Uzko du Soli.” She turned back around to Goku, taking pause when she stood before him again, her face grim. “But take heed in what I say, Kakarot.” She placed the stone onto his lap, leaning in. “They _will_ come out of nowhere, and they _will_ overwhelm you.” She placed her hands back to his temple. “So I must ask again, before I place it upon you. What do you seek from me?”

“My memories,” Goku replied, easier this time. Then out of nowhere, more words came out, desperate, out of control. “My history. The language. Something, anything—”

“Shh.” Those hands pressed to his temples, his eyes automatically falling shut. “Hold onto the stone, n’dra’ge.”

The second he gripped it in his palms, a warm light came from it. He could see the silvery shine from beneath his closed lids and resisted the urge to open. The same warmth he felt from the stone also came from her hands. They matched perfectly, evenly, like the melody and the harmony of a song.

It ended quicker than he expected. When her hands fell away again, Goku found himself feeling exactly the same. Only now, the stone in his hand had transformed into a much smaller, daintier version, with a brand new shape: a thin, flat, round disc with a hollow center, and a gold chain attached to one end.

He watched Lady Kohltavi take it from him, only to gently place it up and over his head, until the stone rested right over the middle of his sternum, the circle clinking against metal.

“It is done,” she spoke. “Keep the stone around you at all times as the spell processes during the week. It will also lead you back to here whenever you need it, at any point, day or night. This temple will welcome you.”

Goku looked up at her. “Will I be able to understand others better?”

“Almost immediately. Bringing back your native language is not an issue.”

He almost smiled. Almost. His voice held a slight quiver as he asked, “And the… ‘programming?’”

“Only what was necessary to know culturally and historically. Nothing more."

Relief. “Thank you.” Palpable relief. “Thank you, Lady Kohltavi.” He rose to his feet, his hand outstretched for a handshake, but the relief, the joy, the pent up emotions and feelings, everything all came to the surface, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinging his whole body around her small frame and hugged tightly, mindful even now of his strength, but he had to let her know, had to make her understand.

Again and again, the phrase “thank you” spilled out of him, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” like an endless mantra, until it turned into a sharp, tight sob that Goku quickly stifled as soon as it arrived.

Eventually, she returned the hug. Not as tight, or as strong as his. Weaker. Flimsier. Like she barely wanted to touch him to begin with, but couldn’t help herself from saying no.

“You’re welcome,” she said. Then sighed, pulling away.

The second she pulled back, Goku looked back down at her—and froze.

Shorter, black hair. Paler skin. Youthful skin.

A sad, small smile. A smile totally different, and yet eerily familiar.

In a blink, it all changed. He was this place, this temple, this plane, with Lady Kohltavi standing before him again. Lady Kohltavi, who frowned deeply, with a knowing look on her face. Knowing, and sad too. Very sad.

“Promise me,” she said, “that you will come here when you need it.”

He nodded. “I will. I promise.” Two fingers pressed to his forehead as he reached out for the location the various kis of the royal family. With Vegeta’s ki being the brightest and strongest of them all, he found them easily, and he waved at Kohltavi with his free hand. “Thanks again!”

In the next moment, he found himself inside the castle, not far from where he believed his bedroom lay. Clearly some time had passed since he left. There weren’t as many Saiyans running around. It felt quieter, calmer around the palace. The party was clearly over. He could sense the royal family spread out throughout the castle, Vegeta’s ki in a place not too far from his own bedroom. Goku used that ki to guide him through the halls, ignoring the urge to bother the man this late at night. As much as he wanted to tell Vegeta about what just happened, it was probably best to save all that for the morning.

Goku found his chambers turned down for the evening, the bed made up and comforter pulled back, the curtains shut tight to hold back the cool night air from coming in. A tray of food waited for him next to the bed on the nightstand. He even found his orange gi hanging in the closet, dry and clearly pressed of any wrinkles, alongside the black robe.

A quick shower later, he slipped into some boxers and gobbled down the food in bed, listening, enjoying the silence. Even now, he kept the necklace around him. Lady Kohltavi told him to keep it near him anyway, and maybe, just maybe, it would trigger some memories in his sleep.

That night, it happened. Goku dreamt at first his normal dreams: of family and foes, of loved ones and enemies, of the past then and the present now. And then it all changed. Warm sun. Yellow lights. Muffled voices. Some arguing. Disagreements. Fear.

A woman. The same as before. Black, short hair. Pale skin.

He found himself in that woman’s arms, like Lady Kohltavi’s from earlier, but so different. They held him, protected him, engulfed him really, from head to toe. Almost... swaddling him. 

Those arms slowly rocked him back and forth. The woman’s voice, she hummed. She sung a few words, guttural Sadalan words that he still didn’t know or recognize or understand, but it sounded so gentle. Playful. Comforting. Like a lullaby.

Goku needed to hug her back. He needed to soothe her back too. She didn’t sound right. The song, it sounded happy, but the woman didn’t sound happy. She sounded so sad, it hurt, but his arms weren’t long enough, his arms weren’t strong enough. He kept trying, and trying, but _nothing_ seemed to work, and he started to panic, wondering why he couldn’t do anything, why he couldn’t reach her, why he couldn’t help her.

She, however, _was_ strong enough. She held him, hugged him, wrapped her whole body around his own and squeezed him tight. A sense of comfort and safety washed over him as she held on, one he couldn’t fight, and even though he knew he was asleep, the interaction made him sleepier, calmer.

The last thing he remembered before total blackness was the way she said his name, the brush of her fingertips over his forehead, the gentle touch of soft lips against his cheek.

“Kakarot,” she said.

So loving, and so sad, at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know how I got this out as quick as I did considering I'm in the middle of packing/moving to another state AND finding a job AND school work, but inspiration clearly hits you when you least want it or expect it!


	3. Chapter 3

Something was wrong with Goku.

The man did show up to breakfast the next morning in the royal chambers, taking a seat across from him. He didn’t meet his eye the entire time, or anyone’s eye, really. Even when the King asked him questions, or the crown princess, Goku didn’t look right at them. He did lift his head, yes. He did talk back. He was interactive, in that regard. He wasn’t quiet. He wasn’t tipping anyone off to any sort of potential problems he was facing. On the outside, in his actions, and his words, he seemed relatively fine.

Vegeta knew better though. The tell-tale signs were everywhere. The very faint, very fine dark circles around Goku’s eyes. The slightly paler skin. The roll in his shoulders. The neck tilting slightly down, rather than slightly up. The utter _wrongness_ in his smile, in his laugh. For the first time, Vegeta saw in Goku what he accused of him of possessing: the ability to bullshit.

When he started to get to know Goku in the beginning of their relationship, he couldn’t believe a Saiyan like this actually existed. His impulsivity was normal for a Saiyan, as was his battle lust and addiction to power. That was fine. But the naivety. His cluelessness. It was why he called him a ‘clown’ so often, because of how wholly foolish he acted. How could _any_ Saiyan be this innocent? This all had to be a pretense for something. What, he didn’t know. But over time, he learned that no, this was Goku. This was truly him. He really _was_ that innocent. The man didn’t know what he said sometimes, how he acted like other times, always believed in the good of everyone, even if someone was trying to actively kill him and everyone he loved. When Goku said “I’m sorry,” or “I’m here for you,” or “I believe in you,” he actually meant it, and it drove Vegeta crazy. It took him a long, long time to not only wrap his mind around it, but also accept it. To this day, Vegeta didn’t know when that actually happened, when he finally accepted Goku for being… all of _this_ , but he was grateful for it.

And now, here Goku was, proving the old Vegeta to be right.

He wanted to pull Goku to the side, stop him from leaving the chambers for the _ambuwa gumisou,_ especially when he caught the twins grinning at each other from ear-to-ear. But Goku dismissed himself to go change before Vegeta could say a word in edgewise. Of course the twins attempted to dismiss themselves soon after, but the King made them stay behind, clearly under some sort of pretense—to prepare for the festivities later this evening, another religious celebration. For that, Vegeta was thankful beyond words. The last thing Goku needed was another humiliation.

Vegeta prepared to excuse himself from any potential plans the King might have prepared for the day. The man had commanded his attention ever since their excursion to the _yokuthensai_. He had been grateful for the multiple distractions, albeit unknown to the family of royals. All the exploration of the bazaar brought so many memories for him that it filled Vegeta’s heart and mind and he had to share it all with the royals to see if there were any links he could compare and any gaps he could fill. And they did. Once they returned to the castle, Vegeta and the King and the crown princess talked for hours, comparing notes, telling stories, sharing thoughts, contemplating what could’ve happened and what might’ve been. It all culminated in the evening of a lifetime, honoring the great Soli with a dance he hadn’t attempted since his last days on Planet Vegeta—a dance he only performed once in public before, with perfection and grace, in time with his mother, Queen Cassava. The memories nearly overwhelmed him then, especially when the King presented to him those precious gifts he wore even now to breakfast, and probably for the rest of his trip. For the King to have procured him a royal red cape and a stone that was an utter replica of his own father’s, nothing he could’ve said would’ve conveyed his utter shock and deep gratitude. Luckily, the King knew and understood well.

But today, the King had to come second. The last twenty-four hours distracted Vegeta well from what happened their first day on the planet, especially when he had to retire to the same bedroom with Goku—and then the fallout from all of _that_. No, Vegeta didn’t need to remember _anything_ about _that_ whatsoever.

Seeing Goku this morning, though, sucker-punched Vegeta. Whatever unresolved thoughts and feelings he still harbored from _that_ evening didn’t matter for now. Because Goku wasn’t okay. He was far from okay, and Vegeta was comfortable enough acknowledging that it worried him.

He thought Goku was acclimating a little bit better the day before, truly thought the crown princess Chikora was doing as her father requested and helping the man as much as possible. He even caught a glimpse of Goku at the celebrations last night during the middle of the _echu batwa_ , how natural he looked dressed from head-to-toe in traditional Sadalan clothing, embellished with the accents that defined royalty. But the man had retired from the evening too quickly and Vegeta didn’t get a chance to fully absorb that look.

The disappointment he felt when Goku entered the royal chambers this morning in the old orange gi came and went, because the second he caught Goku’s eye, Vegeta knew. He just knew something was wrong. Off. Not okay. 

To his relief, the King dismissed everyone for the day, save for the agreed time to meet for the festivities later in the evening. So he took his leave and made a beeline right for the Sadalan training grounds, zeroing in on Goku’s ki. 

There were multiple reasons as to what caused Goku to be this way. Vegeta rattled off all the possible reasons in his mind: the language barrier. The cultural confusion. Lack of programming, loss of protocols, probably overwhelmed by all the new things, most likely depressed over the fact that he wasn’t sparring with new fighters as much as he expected—something Vegeta felt slightly guilty over, as he was the one that led Goku on when it came to that. But which of them set Goku off, he didn’t know. It stood to sense that it was probably all of this, not just one.

“Master!”

Then again.

“Master Vegeta!”

If he was honest.

“It’s so good to finally see you!”

Cabba’s insane mistake was probably it.

Vegeta stood perfectly still in the middle of the vast hallway as the man in question finished rushing up to him. He watched him catch his breath, grinning from ear-to-ear, dressed in the Sadalan Defense Forces traditional attire.

“I had hoped I would run into you last night,” Cabba said, wiping at his sweaty forehead, still grinning. “But you were so busy mingling with everyone that I didn’t get a chance to say hello. Your performance of the _echu batwa_ was most spectacular!”

“Hn.”

“Did you worship Soli too on Planet Vegeta?”

He nodded, crossing his arms.

“Astounding! I would love to know what other similarities we have—”

“Why did you tell them we were mates?”

That grin Cabba sported instantly melted. Instead of pure joy on his face, there was pure embarrassment. “Please forgive me, Master! I explained myself to Goku two nights ago but not to you. I cannot believe how foolish I was to make such an assumption.”

“Clearly.”

“I completely apologize for my grievous mistake. I’ll make time to speak with the King about this—”

“No need. I’ve done it already.” He glared, his lips curling into a snarl. “You still haven’t answered my question. What possessed you to tell the King and the whole royal court that Kakarot and I were mates?”

Cabba replied matter-of-factly: “Why, your _umoya’ir_ of course.”

Vegeta blinked.

“ _Umoya_?” Cabba gestured around Vegeta’s whole body, almost outlining it with both of his hands. “You know? That thing in magic?”

“We didn’t do magic on Planet Vegeta.”

“Oh! Okay then. Well, uh, it’s kind of hard to explain. I’ve got a working understanding of Sadalan magic, but I’m not an expert in it. You don’t need to be at the level of an apprentice to join the Defense Forces, but you should know the basics and all—”

“The point, Cabba.”

“Yes, sorry! So, as children, we learn that we all have an _umoya_. It’s this energy around us, different from _ki_ , which is more of a life-force inside of every living being. _Umoya_ is on the outside, an energy that we give off, and each one of us has a different color or two attached to it. We’re required to know this in the Defense Forces because if an enemy is using magic over ki, we’re able to detect them and can fight back using the magic we know. Outside of the battlefield, we use our _umoya’ir_ primarily for medicinal purposes, sometimes for seeking knowledge. But it’s essential in detecting any future _mah’kha’ir_. When our umoya gains an additional color that’s new and different to our usual own, it’s for a few reasons. Either our potential _mah’kha_ is nearby, or if you’re already in a relationship, the _r’bhon’or_ has begun taking shape and it’s only natural that your _umoya’ir_ begin to change. Or there’s the rare circumstance that you have shared energy already, in which case, either your _umoya’ir_ are temporarily twined and it’ll go away in time, or it just triggered the _r’bhon’or_ early and that person is your true _mah’kha_. In your case, Master, when I saw you and Goku next time at the Tournament of Power, I noticed your _umoya’ir_ had changed much more evidently than the last time I saw you. So I thought—”

“Wait. The last time?” He frowned. “That was the first time we met.”

“Yes! With Lord Champa. Your _umoya_ was quite distinctive from Goku’s, but I noticed a very faint discoloring to each of your _umoya’ir_. If I wasn’t part of the Sadalan Defense Forces, I don’t think I’d have noticed. It was quite faint, so I thought you weren’t mates then, but maybe interested in each other, perhaps? It was only at the Tournament of Power that your _umoya’ir_ were astronomically different! Your colors had mixed so well together that I thought you were mates now.” Cabba’s attention floated to the ground, his cheeks tinged a deep red. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Indeed.” He rested a hand to Cabba’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “You’ll repay me on the battlefield.”

Cabba lifted his head, eyes wide. “What?”

“A good spar and a showcase of your power so far might be a sufficient enough apology.” He let go. “I was on the way to the _ambuwa gumisou_. You will join me.”

The guilt lifted with Cabba’s wide smile. “Yes, Master!”

Cabba flanked his side as they ventured down the many halls to the ambuwa gumisou, the royal Sadalan sparring grounds. The last hall gave way to an amphitheater that seemed to rest in the middle of the palace itself. Empty marble rows of seats encircled a large ground floor comprised of dirt, gravel, sand and some patches of grass. Some Saiyans sparred off in various corners. Others meditated in a small circle. The rest of the Saiyans there were focused on one fight in particular, and Vegeta had no guess as to who it was.

As he walked past the wall of soldiers and made his way to the front row, he found Goku shirtless, shoeless and dirty, with barely a drop of sweat on his body, his orange gi top discarded off to the side. Around his neck was a gold chain with a thin, silver stone hanging off of it, resting in the middle of his sternum—a new accessory, something that made Vegeta frown and made mental note of to address later.

Across from him stood a Sadalan soldier on his last leg, panting for breath, his ki pushed to its limit. The soldier screamed on top of his lungs as he charged forward, aiming for Goku’s left side, and without a beat missed, Goku not only blocked it but flipped the man flat onto his back before anyone could blink. On the ground, the man groaned, struggling to get back up, to keep fighting, but his body gave up on him and he crumpled back down, his head flopping to the side.

Of course Goku checked up on the man, helping him back up into a seated position. Two soldiers broke away from the group to assist, taking the unconscious man away, his feet dragging and creating tracks in the dirt.

Goku watched him go with that stupid embarrassed grin on his face, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about that!” he shouted, chuckling at the end.

A soldier next to Vegeta muttered, “That’s the fourth one he’s taken down already.”

Another soldier piped up, “He doesn’t seem tired at all.”

Vegeta grunted, crossing his arms. “That’s because he isn’t.” He spoke louder. “Clear the area, Kakarot! Cabba and I require space. He owes me.”

For a moment, Goku looked surprised to see him there. Surprised, then… he couldn’t tell what. He didn’t laugh like he expected, or smiled. His lips went into a flat line. He nodded and walked away to one of the many empty marble benches. Didn’t even say a word. He watched Goku take a seat, how he seemed to slump over himself.

The soldiers followed suit, none of them coming near Goku. They gave him a wide berth, most likely terrified of him and the power he seemed to be hiding inside. He expected Goku to wave a few over, maybe even put himself into a conversation. Forced befriending. And none of it happened. Goku just sat there, alone.

_Definitely something’s wrong._

Cabba gave him a good, worthy fight in the end. He ended up needing to transforming to Super Saiyan 2 to hold himself against him. The boy had clearly improved since the Tournament of Power and clearly had been training. During their fight, more and more soldiers had arrived to the training grounds, many taking seats in the stands. By the end, all of the rows were taken, soldiers now pushed up against the other, all wide-eyed and slack-jacked as they watched, engrossed in their glorious fight.

Pride swelled in him when Cabba fought to get up, struggling to his feet, only to fall back to his hands and knees with a sharp cry, the transformation leaving him with a soft _hiss_. It pleased him to see Cabba slap his hand on the ground, cracking the land beneath his palm. He was trying his damnest, working to the brink of his abilities. Everything he expected out of someone he would consider his pupil and then some.

His body casted a large shadow over Cabba’s form. Vegeta knelt down and pressed a hand to Cabba’s shoulder. “Vu tu’eyakho, Saiyan.” _On your feet, Saiyan._ He squeezed hard. “T’au ni’or’we.” _You are forgiven._

Cabba’s body shook. He heard a telltale sniffle, then a cough. In a soft, hoarse whisper, Cabba replied, “D’in m’yo, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” _Thank you, prince Vegeta._

He helped Cabba to his feet, steadying the man with an arm around his shoulders. He startled a little when a Sadalan soldier came to the other side of Cabba, taking control of lifting him. Then another. And another. Soon more soldiers came to surround the two of them, and then an avalanche of Sadalan language. Sadalan cheers. Sadalan laughter, Sadalan grunts and clicks of tongue and praise, endless amounts of praise. Vegeta could pick up on all the words, but he lost the ability to reply, because it just kept coming, and coming, and he didn’t know who to address first in this sea of people.

All of them said the same thing in different ways: amazing fight, wonderful, an honor to witness, a privilege to watch. Praise heaped onto Cabba for his valiant effort, how he honored Tor with his courage and tenacity, as well as Vegeta for his abilities, his control, his shrewdness, his cunning, his precision, his grace, his poise, so on and so on. It was all so foreign to him. Foreign, humbling and, to his surprise, needed. The one thing he never received, and the one thing he didn’t know he needed, until it was right there, given to him freely: acknowledgement. Actual acknowledgement of his power, his prowess, his status and his abilities, by his own people no less.

He couldn’t help the smile that grew bigger and bigger the more he heard the soldiers. Even as he searched for Goku amongst them, the smile kept growing as well as the pride he felt inside.

That smile died, though, when in the sea of Saiyans, he found Goku, alone, on the marble bench. Alone, hunched over, with arms resting on his thighs, his head bowed, the gold chain and its stone hanging like a noose around his neck.

Vegeta mouthed his name as he watched him visibly sigh. Found his voice in a soft whisper of “Kakarot” as he watched Goku stand up and walk away. He even reached a hand out, trying to push a soldier away, but that soldier stood in his line of sight. Then another, and another, until he lost Goku in the sea of happy, proud faces.

Even surrounded by a moment he should’ve emersed himself in, Vegeta kept looking in the direction he last saw Goku. His hands turned into fists by his side, his lips pursed. He could go after the man. He could chase him down. Put all his focus on Goku because Vegeta knew something was wrong with him. But there was a tiny voice in his head, an ugly voice that was saying a truth and a lie at once, and Vegeta didn’t know which to believe, but it felt right, regardless.

Goku left him. He didn’t join in with the others. He wasn’t praising him too. He was purposefully going away, pushing himself away. Sulking. Hiding.

_Jealous._

That thought stayed with Vegeta as he finally turned away from the direction Goku left in and focused on the sea of Saiyans around him.

***

Something _was_ wrong with Goku.

Like Lady Kohltavi said yesterday, the language came back to Goku. It shocked him when he woke up that morning and could hear people from outside the palace walls bartering for food and animals, soldiers chatting in front of the gates, the voices of servants going up and down the halls outside his door. For the first time since he arrived to the planet, Goku could understand everyone around him. He knew exactly what everyone was saying. That didn’t mean he could reply back though. He didn’t know the syntax, the conjugations or how to phrase the words correctly. But now that he knew what everyone said, it would only be a matter of time before he could connect the dots.

He was hopeful breakfast this time would be better, now that he could understand people. Maybe he could even surprise them by saying something in Sadalan. It didn’t matter that his sleep wasn’t restful and that he felt bogged down and exhausted, that the image of that dark-eyed, dark-haired, pale-faced woman still haunted him even as he bathed and changed his clothes. He had something to focus on. Something good.

Breakfast wasn’t anything Goku expected it to be though. Yes, he could understand everyone, but that was just it. He could understand _everyone_. Meaning when they were speaking in Sadalan, he knew truths he had ideas about but were confirmed throughout the meal. How the twins not only hated him for being this powerful being, but how they resented him for it since he was a ‘brain-damaged fool’ who ‘didn’t act like a Saiyan’ and ‘didn’t know anything Saiyan’ and how it was an insult that ‘he has all the power of a Saiyan God and knows nothing of his people.’ Things that reminded him of what Vegeta used to say about him, things he knew and it never bugged him before, but _now_ it bugged him, and it annoyed him how it bugged him. How the princess was acting on behalf of her father and was informing him on everything they did and how concerned and worried she was for him, how she made him go to Lady Kohltavi’s temple and would find out how that went later. How the King was wary of him and his mental state, how the King thanked his daughter for her work, how he ordered his daughter to continue watching over him and to guide him as needed and to continue reporting to him the whole time. And how everyone at that table admired Vegeta, praised Vegeta, asked questions and gave answers to Vegeta. How accepted Vegeta was, compared to himself. How Vegeta was so normal, compared to himself.

He never let slip that he knew what they were saying, only responding when they switched languages. Goku stayed calm, responsive, interactive. He didn’t look them in the eye, though—couldn’t look at any of them in the eye really, now that he really knew what they thought of him. Vegeta, of course, looked lost in his own world. Probably didn’t even notice anything was wrong with him.

There was only thing he could do to distract himself, to make himself feel good: fight. The one thing he didn’t really get to do much of since he arrived, except for that one spar against the two twin princes. When he dismissed himself to go to the _ambuwa gumisou_ , he expected a blowback, a retort from the King. So far there had been plans for all of them, and he hoped there wouldn’t be another one. When the King said he could go, he didn’t even bother hearing the rest of his words. He made a beeline out the door and used his memory to stumble his way to the sparring training grounds.

Goku interrupted a group of Saiyan soldiers sparring each other when he arrived, asking if he could join in. They all gave him a puzzled look, and he expected a pompous response, like a ‘hell no’ or a ‘what, you, really?’ but they didn’t. Instead they looked at each other, back to him, and then one soldier came up to him, falling into a fighting stance.

None of the spars he participated in gave him the challenge he was looking for, but it didn’t matter. It felt good to fight, to move, to not think about anything around him except his opponent in front of him. The first soldier to participate landed on the ground in a few minutes. The second soldier too. The third one put up more of a fight, one where Goku had to remove his torn shirt to the ground. But he too fell too quick to Goku’s liking.

After the third person fell, Goku was waiting for people to come up to him, to ask him how he got so strong, to see who trained him, ask for some advice, something, anything with fighting. Instead, no one came around him. The paltry amount of soldiers that worked inside the _ambuwa gumisou_ either kept to themselves and what they were doing prior to their fight, or they looked at him in sheer awe and a slight amount of fear. Some were saying things in Sadalan, whispered low enough that he couldn’t catch what they were exactly saying, but their looks—their looks were enough to convey what Goku knew they were feeling.

The fourth and final soldier crouched down into a fighting stance before Goku could really think further on the situation. And fourth fight was a good one. The soldier was clearly stronger and smarter than the last three. For a moment, Goku thought he was going to push himself, maybe have to break out Super Saiyan. But the man eventually fell and Goku growled in frustration when it happened.

Hearing Vegeta’s voice break out in the training grounds nearly made Goku’s heart jump into his throat. For a moment, he thought the man arrived to spar him one-on-one, give Goku the reprieve he needed. But then he saw Cabba, heard Vegeta’s words, his intention, and Goku resisted the urge to pout, instead giving the man a curt nod and taking a seat on the stands to watch.

Watching a fight sometimes felt as good as participating in it. Not this time. Not when he watched how the entire training grounds filled up with Saiyans over the course of the fight. Not when he heard the Saiyans murmuring praise, awe and sheer joy at the fight. Not when he could see, even now, how those Saiyans gave him a wide berth, how they whispered to each other, while looking at him. As if he was a pariah amongst those he was supposed to call his people.

Then they surrounded Vegeta and heaped on that praise and kept pounding it on, as if rubbing salt into Goku’s open wounds. He wanted to yell at them, shout at them, tell them that he wasn’t a bad Saiyan, that he was as strong as Vegeta too, that he could put on a show like Vegeta did, that whatever Vegeta and Cabba did would pale in comparison to the spectacle he and Vegeta could do.

But he saw Vegeta’s face. That smile. His look. The awe and sheer, unadulterated happiness.

Vegeta, amongst his people. Praised by his people. Beloved by his people. As it should’ve been.

Goku bowed his head then—and a sharp smell hit him.

The smell of herbs. Then the woman’s face. Black eyes. Black hair. Pale skin.

Her smile outshined anything Vegeta’s ever did. Her smile seemed so welcoming, so warm, and Goku _craved_ that safety right now, would do anything possible to hold onto that.

Then it disappeared as soon as it arrived and Goku was back in the training grounds, sitting alone, listening to the sound of Saiyans cheering for Vegeta, and not for him.

He didn’t know where he was going once he started walking into the palace, throwing his torn gi top back over his head. All he knew was he needed out, now. The necklace rubbed against his bare skin, a physical reminder that he _did_ have a place to go to, a promise he did say he would hold up. But it didn’t feel right to go to her now, not when he saw Lady Kohltavi the night before.

Instead, Goku ventured out into the _yokuthensai_ beyond the palace walls, determined to venture out onto his own and to learn the language and the people better, by himself. Unlike the day before, where he found himself completely overwhelmed by everything around him, Goku could at least understand what people were saying. He couldn’t answer back when someone offered him a piece of jewelry to buy, or a plate of food to eat, or an animal to purchase. But he could at least understand them, and they could at least understand when Goku shook his head no or wave them off with a gentle smile on his face. It made up for the day before in spades.

No memories were triggered as he walked around though. He hoped the more he emersed himself into the bazaar, the more likely thoughts of his past would pop up. But nothing came to him, much to his annoyance. He couldn’t name any food or any animals or any of the weapons or jewelry or anything in the bazaar. The only positive was that by eavesdropping in to conversations here and there, he could learn their names. It wasn’t what Goku was looking for, but it was something tangible, something he could hold onto as he finished his excursion to the bazaar. After an hour of walking around the area, he returned back to the palace much more confident than he did previously, and that felt like an accomplishment.

As he reached the palace gates, the sound of drums stole his attention. In the far corner, he watched four Saiyans play on instruments. Two held strung items that looked like large guitars, or cellos, with a board base on the bottom and pedals attached. Another held a crystal chandelier attached to a line of strings of various sizes. The last Saiyan sat on the ground, surrounded by various round shapes, like drums, beating on different ones here and there. A basket laid in front of the quartet, full of coins. A passing Saiyan dropped a few into the basket. Other Saiyans stood around, some old, some young, some holding a Saiyan child on their lap or holding a Saiyan child’s hand, all watching the performance.

Goku admired the music for a moment, the tribal like drums working in time with the light, sweet tones from the crystal instrument, and the bass undertones from the two guitar-like things. He watched one of the Saiyan children clap along to the beat, her braided hair bouncing here and there. She looked up at the man holding her on his hip, her father most likely, and the man smiled back at her, full of pride and happiness, soaking in the unadulterated joy of his child.

The father’s eye caught his—and Goku froze, his own smile fading away.

He looked right at a mirror. Wild black spiky hair in every direction. Strong featues. Tanned skin compared to his pale own. A long scar over his face.

Pride on that face, directed right at him. A face that was his own.

It ended in a blink. One blink, and the moment was gone.

The man and the daughter weren’t looking at him, but each other. The whole world kept moving on. The music kept playing, the band kept playing, everything was the same, not a thing changed.

Goku found himself staring for so long that he didn’t notice he hadn’t moved until the sound of gentle clapping and the song ending knocked him out of his reverie. He couldn’t stop shaking as he walked to the palace steps, and the soldiers nodded at him, recognizing who he was and opening them to him.

None of the shaking stopped once the doors slammed behind him. It was like the floodgates opened the second he was back inside the palace grounds. The man’s face returned to his vision. The woman’s face too. He could feel his feet moving forward, one step at a time, could hear the ground and the dirt and the pavement under his boots, but the soil interchanged with a carpeted floor, and then a concrete slab, and then rocks, different colored rocks, going from the day he was in to a chilly nightfall.

Red crossed his vision more than once. So did a bright yellow light. Warm liquid surrounded his body. Warm arms soon after. The world felt scary and wrong and new and he could see that woman’s face, feel her arms, rocking him back and forth, whispering sweet Sadalan words that he knew he could finally understand, but they seemed like they were underwater, hidden from him, and he needed to know what she was saying, he just _had_ to. They seemed important, she seemed important, _who is she_ —

Goku slammed into a wall face first, stumbling backwards.

Behind him, he heard the unwanted tell-tale snicker of a stupid Saiyan prince. “M’ril,” Courget said. And Goku knew that word. _Moron._

Another snicker as he rubbed his red nose and forehead. Goku heard every word his brother, Baternet, said. “That brain damage did a number on him.”

“Clearly!”

“How did he end up becoming a Super Saiyan God?”

“Right? Prince Vegeta should be the only one.”

Then he heard it. The sound of more Sadalans, more Saiyans around him. Servants and soldiers alike, all whispering, all staring. At him. About him.

 _He’s a God? A Super Saiyan God? Did you hear what he did in the training grounds? He’s very powerful. No, he almost killed those soldiers! He’s reckless! The Prince says he lost his memories as a child. Oh the poor thing. It must be so hard for him. Why is he wearing that outfit? Is he truly a Saiyan? He doesn’t look so good. He looks too pale. Look at the color around his body. He doesn’t look like a Super Saiyan God to me. Prince Vegeta had a beautiful fight compared to this one. What was his name, Goku? What kind of name was that? What kind of Saiyan nearly kills another Saiyan in a spar? He didn’t kill them, he’s just too powerful. Compared to Prince Vegeta, who showed pride and honor, now_ that _is a true Saiyan God, worthy of Soli—_

“Goku?”

Fuzziness. Blurriness.

He blinked a few times, and Princess Chikora came into view. A dark red scarf covered her head and tied loosely around her neck, holding back her long, wild black hair.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He blinked, and Chikora turned into that woman from his dreams. Looking concerned, and pale, and sad, and loving.

Chikora’s voice came out of that face. “Goku?”

_Kakarot._

The real woman’s voice. His throat closed up as he backed away a step.

He blinked and she became Chikora again. She reached out her hand to him—

Another blink, and she was that woman.

“Come here,” she said—Chikora, that woman. Both. They both reached out to him. They both tried to touch him. Hold him. Comfort him.

Goku took another step back, and another, and another.

Chikora’s wide eyes were as black as that woman’s. As loving as that woman’s.

“Goku, please—”

_Kakarot, please—_

The world blurred again as he burst out into the air, flying as fast as possible through the clouds.

Drums. The sound of those drums, rhythmic, tribal, pounded in his brain again and again, in time with the memories bubbling up and swarming his consciousness. The woman’s face, the woman’s voice, the way she said his name. The woman, holding him in his arms, wrapping him in a blanket. The woman looking at him from behind a glass, bathed in yellow light. The woman speaking to that man from before. Holding each other. Hugging each other.

The world beneath him changed into a different world of red pillows and blankets and cold stone floors. The world around him transformed into a different universe of the woman and the man, looking down at him, looking right at him, surrounding him, holding him, speaking above him, around him, to him, Yelling at each other. Yellow mutated to red and he felt loving hands run over his hair, his face, as if memorizing every piece of him, and then it all became cold, too cold.

Everything was cold now. Everything felt wrong, and not okay, and alone. He was alone, flying somewhere, wasn’t he? Somewhere on this planet he didn’t know, in a universe that wasn’t his. He was alone. Goku thought of the man, thought of the woman, and he fought to keep them in mind, fought to think _more_ of them the faster he flew. The sound of drums grew louder, stronger, as the memories hit him one after another after another—but they weren’t memories that actually mattered. He remembered Soli, the great warrior goddess of the sun; Tor, the sister warrior goddess of the moon; cultural traditions like evening feasts, morning hunts, the importance of pride in Saiyan culture and how to demonstrate it in your actions and words; history like the first Super Saiyan and the first Super Saiyan God, the Great Civil War and the lineage of Vegeta—and none of that mattered as much as that woman and that man did.

But it wasn’t coming. Nothing new was coming. This ‘programming,’ the schooling, _that_ was coming back now and threatened to take over his mind, but that wasn’t what Goku wanted. The drums grew louder, as if they pounded on his actual skull now, and the whole world felt colder and harsher, but he _needed_ to know more about those two. He needed to know who that woman was, who that man was, their words, their looks, and he could almost do it, he could _almost_ figure it out, but it didn’t come. Nothing came. Nothing new.

Then, the woman and the man left his mind, completely. The closeness, gone. The comfort that came with their presence in his mind, gone.

Goku stopped flying.

He tried again, and again. But nothing came up. The cultural things, yes, they were there. The history too. But not the woman nor the man. They were gone, and he was alone.

His body shook all over. His vision blurred.

All alone.

He could feel his hands move out of their own volition, sliding up, right to the stone.

Alone, with the sound of the drums, the mockery of a whole planet of Saiyans, the halfhearted concerns of a princess, the scourge of two twin princes, one wary King, and Vegeta—who didn’t care. Who was so beloved, so part of this world, so integrated and so perfect here, that he didn’t need Goku here, and everyone knew that, everyone knew he didn’t belong, everyone _hated_ him—

Goku _screamed._

He found dirt as he landed onto his knees, _screaming_ his lungs out. He held onto the stone with both of his hands, uncaring if he ended up cracking it or breaking it with the power in his hands. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

It felt _good_ to scream. It kept coming out in waves, vomiting out every pain, every ache, every single solitary frustration and anger and sadness he felt inside, until his voice cracked and his throat turned raw and he gave up with a pitiful, weak whine, then curled into a tight ball, flinging his arms around his knees and holding on tight.

The sound of drums stopped at least. The pounding that was in his head now matched his rapid fast heartbeat. His face felt strained and hot, his body tired and weak. A burn lingered in his throat and lungs, the sensation rolling down his esophagus to his upset stomach. He breathed hard into his clasped knees, the hot air warming his face.

Cool wind rolled over his skin. It felt nice. Almost like the gentle brush of fingertips soothing his body, running up and down his forearms to his shoulders. Almost brushing over his hair, like a gentle pet to his scalp, calming his wrecked emotions.

A sharp smell of fresh herbs hit his nostrils, and the woman came back, her comforting smile in pure detail from behind the darkness of his lids.

“Kakarot,” she said. “It’ll be okay.”

Something broke inside his chest, hearing her words. It manifested in tears that stung his tightly shut eyes. He wanted to believe those words, almost delude himself into thinking that this woman was real, that she was here, comforting him in this moment. But he couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t lie when he knew what the truth was.

The woman disappeared soon after, which he expected. But the soothing touch didn’t stop. It kept going, as feather light as before, over his forearms and shoulders, to his hair. Gentle, needed pets.

He looked up and found Lady Kohltavi crouched down in front of him, the temple laying a few good feet behind her. She pulled her hands back to rest them between her thighs.

“M’yo na’hi wezka ntoni t’au,” she said, and Goku knew every word she said. _I am sorry for what is happening to you._ “But it is part of the process of remembering _._ ” She touched his hands, still clutching the stone. “Sadly, this isn’t the worst of it.”

Goku mouthed the word, “What?”

“You will see soon enough, n’dra’ge.” She rose to her feet, offering an outstretched hand. “Rada at’ti. T’au’lo d’in’a ku’phi’la.” _Come inside. You’ll need your rest._

Goku hesitated for a moment before taking her hand and allowing himself be led inside the temple.

***

Vegeta didn’t see Goku at all until much later in the day for that evening’s festivities. He remembered feeling Goku’s ki spike earlier in the day, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, towards the center of the planet, but he was still too mad at him to go investigate. Plus, he was in the middle of feasting with the King, reminiscing about Planet Vegeta and Planet Sadala’s golden years, and he wasn’t going to miss out on learning more gaps in his own history through Planet Sadala’s.

This third night was a mix of the previous two, a large banquet with a ceremonial performance. Unlike the night before, there was no dancing, but a live performance of ceremonial music on ancient instruments, led by the most artistic Saiyans on the planet. Vegeta took his seat next to King Sadala’s on the risers, engrossed in the music. Not once did he bother checking on Goku right beside him, to see if the man was as entranced by the performance as he was.

Also unlike the previous two nights, this third one ended early, with most Saiyans dispersing as quickly as they arrived. King Sadala retired to his own quarters after closing the night with a heartfelt speech to all the Saiyans in attendance. He wished Vegeta goodnight, holding both sleepy twins in his arms, flopped over his shoulders. Princess Chikora followed her father to assist him in putting the twins to bed, wishing Prince Vegeta a good night and a peaceful sleep.

He wasn’t surprised to find Goku already gone, most likely halfway to his room, or most likely already there. It suit him fine not to see the man any longer than he did to. One of the guards led him back to his room, one that was much more opulent and decadent than the one he previously was in with Goku. He stripped himself of his clothing and prepared a nice bath for him with one of the oils in the room, a scentless one that made his skin feel supple and sooth to touch.

It was in that bath that it hit Vegeta how much it bugged him that Goku was jealous. If it had been any other time in their relationship, he would’ve _relished_ in that fact, probably even rubbed it right into Goku’s face that he had something over the Saiyan for once—that Vegeta was the one who was liked and wanted and needed the most, not Goku. He would’ve bragged left and right that the good and virtuous Goku actually could get jealous, that he needed all of this attention and love and hated that it went to Vegeta for once, not himself. Instead, it pissed Vegeta off completely, because again, it ruined what he thought of Goku to be—what he sincerely thought Goku was, deep down. Goku didn’t get jealous. Goku didn’t bullshit other people. He didn’t lie, he didn’t cheat, he didn’t hide things, he was a happy-go-lucky, careless and carefree, naïve and silly little Saiyan who just happened to be the most powerful being Vegeta ever met and a shining example of their race. And again, after that fight with Cabba, on the heels of their breakfast, Goku broke the image Vegeta had in his mind.

He sunk into the tub deeper, rubbing a wet hand over his dry face.

_The hell is wrong with you, Kakarot?_

The image of Goku, sad, despondent at breakfast, twisted his gut inside.

Even the follow-up image of Goku, alone, slumped over on the training grounds bench, tightened up his throat, despite still feeling annoyed by it.

This wasn’t Goku. This wasn’t him. None of it was. And it actually hurt. It _hurt_.

Vegeta sighed.

 _The hell is wrong with_ me?

A spike of ki, again, jumped into his senses, out in the middle of nowhere. Goku’s ki, out in the middle of nowhere, but much more… off-putting than before. It held the same sadness as the one earlier in the day, the same distraught feeling with it, but it wasn’t as frustrated as before, nor as lost or confused.

This… this was anger. Pure, raw _anger_.

Anger, with a violent ki that matched in intensity.

“Shit.”

He scrambled out of the tub, using a flare of ki to dry up quickly. Vegeta snatched up his boxers and blue spandex on the floor, shoving himself into them as fast as possible, before he blasted out the window, right in the direction of that violent ki.

Vegeta easily found Goku out in the middle of nowhere, not far from the center of the planet. He stood in the middle of a desert wasteland like a bright beacon of light, performing a violent kata in his Super Saiyan God Blue form—a kata that grew in speed, intensity and savagery with every kick, every punch. A kata that started to crack the ground beneath him, shake the earth itself, the _planet_ itself.

“Kakarot!”

He breathed a sigh of relief when Goku stopped his movements and glared right at him. “ _What?_ ”

It took him back for a moment how Goku not only didn’t de-transform, but that he looked and sounded down-right pissed at him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Training.”

“You’re going to break the planet in half if you don’t go to a lower level this instant!”

Goku clenched his jaw. He closed his eyes and in a small _woosh_ the Super Saiyan God Blue form disappeared completely, leaving Goku in his base form. Then he glared at Vegeta yet again. “There. Happy?”

Vegeta glared right back at him, crossing his arms. “I will be once you get that rod out of your ass and talk to me.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Kakarot.”

“I’m not bitter. I’m pissed.”

“About?”

“You should know.” He turned away from Vegeta. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

“If it’s about the mate thing—”

“It’s _everything_.” He started punching and kicking the air again as he spoke. “I know what they think about me—what the King, the twins, the princess, the servants, the guards—I know everything. I know they don’t like me. I know they don’t think I fit in. I know they’re worried about me and I know that people in the palace think I screwed up those spars in the training grounds earlier and I know they all like you over me. I _know_ this, and I didn’t _have_ to know _this!_ ” He transformed to Super Saiyan, his kata becoming more violent again. “I didn’t _have_ to go to Kohltavi, I didn’t _have_ to listen to Chikora, I didn’t _have_ to ask for help, but I couldn’t hold it back, I couldn’t hold it in, I couldn’t hide it well enough, and they all noticed, and I took the help, and now— _argh!_ ” He transformed to Super Saiyan 2. “Now I know absolutely every word that every person on this planet is saying, and it’s all my fault! All because I wanted to fit in, all because I wanted to learn, I wanted to be _enough!_ ” Blood red swarmed his skin, and the Super Saiyan God form emerged the faster Goku moved. “I wanted to be enough for them, for you, but I’m not! I’m not a Saiyan, I can’t be a Saiyan, I’m never going to be Saiyan enough, and now I have—”

A strong hand stopped Goku’s next punch to the air.

Vegeta, now in Super Saiyan God form as well, jerked his arm down hard to his side. He held onto Goku’s wrist hard, enough to bruise the skin, his bare fingers pressing firm into Goku’s flesh.

Then, Vegeta said, “You _are_ enough, Kakarot.”

Goku tried jerking his hand away, but Vegeta held on stronger. He watched Goku look away, off to the side, hiding his eyes behind his unruly bangs. Faint moonlight from the sky above gave his hair a slight silvery sheen to it.

Vegeta let his wrist go, ready to grab it again if needed. Goku, however, didn’t move away, nor closer to him. He did cradle his wrist in his other hand, rubbing at the skin, but nothing else.

He waited a bit longer before he asked, “You know our language now?”

Goku nodded. “Chikora made me go to their high priestess yesterday, Lady Kohltavi. She helped unlock some things inside my brain for me.”

“I see.”

“I can’t talk back yet, but I know what people are saying at least.” He cradled the wrist to his chest. Both his fingers then dug into the shirt, forming an outline of a circle over his sternum, where that stone Vegeta noticed earlier most likely rested. “I thought it’d be good, y’know? Thought it’d help out.”

“It will eventually, once you can reply back.” He smirked. “I can teach you a few phrases.”

“Heh.” Goku smiled—not one of his usual smiles, but it was a smile nonetheless. “That might freak the twins out.”

“They have it coming.”

“I don’t want to be a bother—or rather, not ruin your trip.” Goku looked up at Vegeta finally. The embarrassment on his face was palpable. “Like I’ve done already.”

Vegeta huffed. “You’ve ruined nothing.”

“I—”

“Nothing, Kakarot. You weren’t the one who told the entire court we were mates, Cabba did. You weren’t the one who screamed bloody murder in front of everyone when you found out, I did. Name whatever slight you think you’ve caused, and I guarantee I can find the real truth. Considering your handicap, you’ve done an amazing job attempting to assimilate, and only now are you truly quote-quote ‘ruining my trip’ here, because for once in your life, you are not being honest with me.”

Goku looked like a deer in headlights as he clutched the stone harder. “What?”

“There’s something else going on with you. Something you’re not telling me.”

“There isn’t—”

“There is, and why you are insulting my intelligence, I do not understand. You’re a bad liar. Always have been.”

“I just…” Super Saiyan God dissipated with a soft _woosh_. Goku shook his head no. “I can’t ruin this for you.”

“And as I’ve said before, you’re not, until now.” He crossed his arms. “So, tell me the truth, Kakarot. What is going on?”

He saw the word on Goku’s lips. The word ‘nothing.’ It was right there, ready to come out, but he watched it dwindle, leaving Goku slack jawed for a moment, before he closed his lips and looked down and away again from him.

In the silence of waiting, Vegeta powered down out of Super Saiyan God himself too. He stayed still, watching, waiting for Goku to give in, to say his truth—and in the process, stop Vegeta’s world from being turned inside-out from today’s events. 

Finally, Goku said, “I don’t know.”

Vegeta growled.

“No, I mean it, I don’t _know_.” Goku reached into his shirt, producing the stone from underneath. “Chikora gave me this, then Lady Kohltavi made it into this, and it helped me unlock the language thing and some history and cultural things, and I don’t know why it did this, or how it did it, but it did, and I have to hold onto it the whole time this week while they come back, but something else came with it too. Something I just don’t know, and yet…” His voice quivered as much as his body did. “She said my name. My Saiyan name. She _knows_ me.” He finally looked up, and all Vegeta saw were two black pools of wetness staring right at him. “And I have no idea who she is.”

Vegeta’s eyes went wide in recognition. His arms slowly unfurl to his sides.

Goku looked away again, back to the stone. “Then today, at the you-koh-then-say, that bazaar we went to yesterday, I heard some music in the streets, and I saw this daughter, and her dad, and when the guy looked at me, he looked _exactly_ like me. And it was just like that woman. He seemed to know me but I didn’t know him. I didn’t know anything about him.”

Vegeta closed the gap between them, coming to Goku’s side.

Goku didn’t notice. He kept staring at the stone. “They both seemed so familiar, and they kept talking in Sadalan, and I should’ve known what they were saying, but I couldn’t, it was like I was under water, or stuck in some sort of tube, and—”

“Kakarot.”

“—they kept looking at me, they kept saying my Saiyan name, and it felt right hearing them say my name, like, almost normal, like they had said it my whole life—”

Vegeta wrapped his arms around the shaking man.

“—and then I couldn’t remember their faces anymore. I couldn’t remember them anymore until I rested later at Kohltavi’s and even now it’s like, fragments, like little pieces, I can’t explain it, I don’t know. I don’t know—”

“Shh.”

“—I don’t know, Vegeta. I don’t know—”

He hugged Goku tight in his arms, one strong arm around his waist, the other around his shoulders.

“—and I should, shouldn’t I? I should _know_ and I don’t—I don’t—”

Slowly, he felt Goku return the embrace.

“—Vegeta, are—are they my—”

“Yes.”

The response was instantaneous. Goku clutched him hard, his fingernails and fingertips digging into the skin of his back. He buried his face into the crook of Vegeta’s neck, shoving Vegeta’s face right into the crook of his own. The power, the strength behind it, would’ve killed another man, probably even a Saiyan. But not Vegeta.

He returned the embrace tenfold and held on, waiting.

Vegeta felt the warm tears against the skin of his neck before the hard, muffled sob. Even now, Goku held back, each sob a violent punch from Goku’s chest to his own, to his rib cage. He didn’t release them freely. He controlled each one, even as his body shook from head to toe in Vegeta’s embrace. And Vegeta didn’t move. Didn’t stroke his hair, didn’t pat his back, because he didn’t want to belittle the man. He was still a Saiyan deep down, even if Goku didn’t believe it himself, and Vegeta was going to give the man the same respect in this moment of vulnerability that he would expect for himself.

Eventually the sobs quieted down. A few sniffles remained, the sound loud in his ear. Goku was the one to pull away, releasing Vegeta. He lingered for a moment before letting go as well.

He watched Goku wipe at his eyes, muttering a “sorry” under his breath. Goku cleared his throat once, twice, following up with a hoarse whisper of, “Sorry about that.”

Vegeta waited until Goku was composed enough to pay attention. Once Goku’s attention caught his eye, he said, “Instant transmission us to your room.”

Goku’s eyes bugged out.

“That’s an order, Kakarot. You are _not_ going through this alone tonight, or the night after that.”

“But—”

“What you are going through would kill a lesser Saiyan. You are strong, Kakarot, but I am not allowing my last subject to endure this process alone. I failed you once when I taught you nothing of our people or our ways. I will not allow you to let me fail you again.”

“But the rumors—?”

“Fuck ‘em. Let the gossips have their fun. The King knows the truth, as does the crown princess, and even those snot nosed twins. That’s all that matters.” He rested a hand onto Goku’s shoulder. “You help everyone, Kakarot. Let me be the one who helps _you_ this time.”

In the silver moonlight, Goku’s eyes shined, his face pale, impassive, almost unreadable. But Vegeta knew better. Goku’s eyes always gave way to the truth, as did his voice, and all Vegeta could register was one word: complete and utter gratefulness. “Vegeta…”

He squeezed Goku’s shoulder, giving him a nod.

Goku smiled in return, bringing two fingers to his forehead.

All they left behind them was a burned circle etched into the desert grounds permanently, cracked earth, soil, dirt and sand.

***

Sleep didn’t come easy to Goku once they settled into his chamber later on. The terrible worry that they’d be found out, that the King, or the princess, or God forbid any of the twins would find them here, together, in this bedroom—in the bed—would horrify him beyond words, and there was nothing Vegeta could do or say that would make him feel better, ever.

He couldn’t believe that Vegeta not only wanted to be in his chambers, but also in the same bed as well. He fully expected Vegeta to sleep on the floor, maybe even create a cot out of bedsheets and blankets on the floor, and Goku would’ve been happy to sleep there and give Vegeta the bed instead. No, Vegeta insisted they sleep on the same bed, saying they had done it before, so it wasn’t a big deal. Despite Goku’s trepidation and sense of dread, he did as Vegeta told and climbed in with him.

Now he laid wide awake, listening to Vegeta’s soft breathing on the other side of the bed. They were back in the same scenario they were in two nights ago, when they first arrived and the whole trip took a turn for the worst—at least, for Goku, it did. Except now, Vegeta wanted to be here, with him, and Goku really didn’t feel like he had a choice in saying no. Not when Vegeta truly cared about him and his well-being.

He stared at the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his sternum, his fingertips lightly grazing the stone hanging from his neck. Moonlight seeped into the room, past the closed curtains, a small sliver of light bouncing off the stone and creating little dots of lights onto the ceiling.

Goku played with the cool, soft edge, his thumb rubbing back and forth. How he was going to survive the rest of this week, let alone two whole weeks, he didn’t know. Especially considering everything that was going on—a high holy week, learning the language, the history and culture, and all of his returning memories.

He eyed Vegeta on the other side of the bed, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest. The gentle snores passing through soft, parted lips. The way his hair fanned out beneath the pillows. How he looked so peaceful and relaxed in sleep, his bare arms framing the side of his head.

A faint blush heated his cheeks and Goku jerked his attention away, back to the ceiling above.

Oh, and that. There was… that.

It wasn’t like Goku hadn’t thought of Vegeta that way. The man was attractive, and Goku had found many men attractive in his lifetime. It didn’t matter if it was a man or a woman. If a person looked good and acted nice, he liked them and could find them attractive. He still remembered how confused he was when he looked at Bulma down there and saw she didn’t have a penis like he did. That moment stuck with him, not just because that was what a girl looked like down there, but because he found whatever was down there didn’t matter as much as everything else about a person. He liked Bulma and didn’t care she didn’t have a penis. He liked Krillin and didn’t care he had a penis. He liked Chichi, he promised to marry her without knowing what marriage was, but he never broke a promise, so he married her. He found her attractive and sweet and nice and loved her cooking. But if she had a penis, it wouldn’t have bugged him whatsoever. If he liked something, or someone, he liked it, and that was all there was to it.

When he first met Vegeta on that day in the wasteland years ago, Goku didn’t find him attractive. He was excited about the upcoming fight and felt determined to win to save his planet, but no, he did not find Vegeta attractive. That attraction came over time. When it finally occurred to Goku that he found Vegeta attractive, he couldn’t say. Possibly around when Buu arrived. He had to think that over some time.

But it didn’t bug him that he found Vegeta attractive. There were many men in Goku’s life that he found attractive. Vegeta just happened to be one of them. An attractive man who was the prince of their entire race, who fought alongside him and helped him in times of need, who Goku could rely on no matter what, who pushed Goku to his limits and beyond, who always kept Goku on his toes, who guided him on this foreign planet, with these foreign people, and who was doing the ultimate sacrifice all for Goku’s comfort: the potential sacrifice of Vegeta’s status and honor in front of a whole planet of Saiyans, so that Goku could have a friend with him during probably one of the scariest and most trying times of his life.

Vegeta, prince of all Saiyans. The man who held Goku together as he cried into his arms, right into his neck, hugging him just as tight as Goku was, and didn’t let him go. Didn’t judge him. Didn’t do anything but… be there for him. Support him. Help him, as a prince would any loyal subject.

Vegeta was there for him, and always would be.

He blushed deeper, fingers playing with the stone.

So yes. Vegeta was attractive.

Attractive, and that was fine. That was absolutely fine.

It didn’t matter that everyone thought they were mates, except the royal family now, thank goodness. Didn’t matter that they were sleeping in the same bed, again. It didn’t matter. It was just for tonight, after all. For his benefit. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He spared a glance at Vegeta’s prone form before turning to his side, his back to Vegeta. He clutched the stone in his hand as his eyes fluttered shut, willing sleep to come to him.

At first, Goku slept dreamless. Nothing but the blackness. No shapes, no figures, no sounds. He snored loudly as he fell deeper into sleep.

Then, a woman’s voice. Sweet Sadalan words. Gentle touches to his face, as if memorizing every piece of him. His nose. His cheeks. His forehead. His ears.

“Kakarot,” she said, and it sounded so… sad.

He felt his arms reach out to her, but again, they weren’t long enough to grab onto her, to hold her back. He couldn’t make out her face well in the yellow light, and again, he felt like he was floating, sunken at the bottom of a sea.

A guttural, male voice followed. “My little Kakarot,” he said.

Goku followed the outline of the wild hair, shaped so similarly to his own. He reached out to him now too. To both of them. But the yellow light was too bright, and the water bogged him down, held him in place. He slammed against a wall, a glass, and it didn’t break. He tried again, and again, and again, and it didn’t budge. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t good enough.

He mouthed the words “mama” and “papa.”

He heard himself shout instead in Sadalan: “ _Na’ma! Ja’ta!_ ”

Two hands rested on the window, one male, one female. Yellow light turned to red. Blood red, ugly red. Thousands of stars and endless amount of moonlight usurped the world around him, and he reached up, reached as high as his little hand could go—

Goku gasped, jerking upright in bed.

In an instant, Vegeta was there, a hand on his shoulder. “You’re awake,” he said. “You’re okay.”

His whole body shook. He reached up to touch the stone. Touched his face. His wet cheeks. He looked down at his shaking hand, the very hand that tried to reach for them, for his _parents_ —

Vegeta’s bare hand rested over his.

Goku watched him squeeze it hard.

“Sleep,” Vegeta whispered into his ear. He felt the hand pull him, saw it tug him back towards the bed, and Goku followed, falling back into the sheets, to the pillows. He felt the covers come up to his chin, without that hand leaving his, and he felt a warm, welcoming presence snuggle up to his side. And not once did that hand go. Not once did it leave him.

“Sleep,” Vegeta repeated, as he squeezed his hand. “I will be here.”

Goku stared at the ceiling, his breathing erratic. He squeezed Vegeta’s hand back, his vision blurring, his face hot.

Gentle fingertips rubbed his forehead. His scalp. Ran through his scalp, over and over, again and again, the rhythm soothing, relaxing. Vegeta pressed himself a little closer, his free arm wrapping over the top of his head, so he could gently pet his head better, and Goku let him. Needed him to do this. Needed him to hold his hand, to run his free hand through his hair, because it was working, it was all working to erase the cold, suffocating feeling Goku felt from before, to stop the fear and the sadness and everything he didn’t want to deal with so late at night.

With every little movement, Goku felt his eyelids growing heavier, and heavier, the world around him warm and good and nice. Vegeta kept petting him. Kept holding his hand. Never scooting away. Never leaving him.

Soon, Goku finally shut his eyes. His head rolled to the side on the cool pillow, towards Vegeta.

He fell back into a dreamless sleep and stayed that way the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who teared up writing this? *raises hand* And I wasn't expecting to do that until Part 4. Craaaaap.


	4. Chapter 4

Goku awoke to the sound of a page turning. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head. Bones cracked and creaked, a yawn escaping from his dry lips. The burgundy sheets felt cool. The whole bed felt good. The urge to curl up again and fall back to sleep was strong. But he heard another page turn and he turned to the side of the room, searching for the source of it.

What he found shook the last of sleep from him. There, in the corner of the room, sat Vegeta in a wooden chair, fully dressed, cross-legged. His red cape matched the color of the chair he sat in, the purple stone around his neck glittering in what little sunlight came into the room. In his gloved hands, Vegeta held a book on its last leg, its spine breaking apart here and there, threads of the covers sticking out everywhere. From what Goku saw, the yellow pages contained stains and tears, but Vegeta seemed to be able to read every word easily.

Barely any sunlight peeked through the window. For once, the curtains closed off the world, held in place by a gold rope. Beside Vegeta rested a tray, two glasses full of a yellow liquid, a pitcher with more of the same, cutlery, and plates covered in gold cloches. Goku could smell the food, and his stomach growled at him to get up and move and get it, but he couldn’t just yet. Because the shock that Vegeta was there, that he didn’t leave this time, galvanized him in place.

His scalp burned as he remembered his last thoughts before dreamless sleep took him away. Fingertips. Vegeta’s bare fingertips, running over his scalp, his forehead. Soothing him. His other bare hand, holding his own, squeezing it and not letting go. Because of those memories. Because of his—

_Kakarot._

His mother. His father.

They were there, right in front of him. Right in the room. In the flesh.

Their voices, saying his name. Yellow light turning to an ugly blood red. His hands reaching out to them, trying to hold them, stop them, screaming at them, crying at them—

“Kakarot?”

Goku blinked a few times.

The room returned to normal. Everything was normal. Even Vegeta looked normal, looked right at him now, with that book resting on his lap, in his gloved hands.

Except the tone. That didn’t sound normal at all. “You’re awake,” Vegeta said, and despite his impassive look, the tone said it all. “How’d you sleep?” Concerned. Palpable concern.

Goku slowly sat up in bed. “Okay, I think.”

“Breakfast ended a while ago. I had the servants save some food for you.”

“Thanks.” He pushed the bed sheets away, swinging his bare legs over the bed to the floor. “What’cha reading?”

Vegeta closed the book, resting it on the table beside him. “Something Cabba said to me yesterday interested me and I asked Chikora if she happened to possess any books of value on the matter. Nothing important.” He uncrossed his legs, coming to his feet. “I spoke with the King, by the way. You’re excused from tonight’s activities as well as tomorrow’s if need be. I told him you weren’t feeling well and he understood.”

“Ah.” Goku scratched his bare chest as he looked away from him for a moment, down to the floor, to his bare feet. “Are you going tonight?”

He heard Vegeta’s footsteps come closer to the bed. “I’m not sure.” They soon stopped, and a heavy weight landed at the foot of the bed, close to Goku. “Probably not.”

Goku didn’t allow the silence that followed to stay very long. He sighed, one of his cold hands running over his clammy face, while the other rested beside his hip, digging into the bed. “Vegeta, you have to go.”

“The King will understand.”

“You’re the Prince.”

“I can miss one evening.”

“People will talk.”

“Let them.”

A growl ripped out of Goku as he slammed his hand down to his thigh. “I am _not_ ruining this for you.”

“What you are going through is—”

“Nothing. That’s what it is. Nothing.” He looked up, met Vegeta’s gaze and held back the slight shock he felt when Goku saw how visibly exhausted the man looked. “I can handle this on my own.”

He felt his stomach twist into a knot at Vegeta’s small shake of his head. “Again with the lying.”

“I’m not lying. I promise, whatever happened last night won’t happen again, okay? I told you already, I can’t ruin this for you, and that means not letting you do this to yourself.” The smile he forced twisted his stomach into another, tighter knot. “I’ll be fine. Really! Besides, these are your people— _our_ people, and you need to be with them.”

Vegeta didn’t move. Seemed to not even blink. He sat there an impassive, impenetrable statue in the silence, with his perfect posture and his hands resting comfortably over his lap.

But that look.

It was a look that penetrated all of Goku’s weak defenses, a look that interrogated, judged and sentenced, all in one. A look that said everything Vegeta wasn’t in that moment.

Goku used that silence and Vegeta’s stillness to hop away from bed. He heard his mouth moving before his brain could catch up. “Anyway, I’m starving!” His cold feet tip-tapped onto the equally cold stone floor, walking to the table of food. One hand snatched up the glass of yellow liquid. “I swear, I could eat a whole dinosaur right now—”

“Jik’ho.”

He froze, the glass at his lips.

_Asshole._

Behind him, Vegeta said, “N’jani nobug’t’au xoka m’eh v’nui.”

The words translated easily in Goku’s head. _How dare you lie to me again._

“M’eh’ga pha. M’eh’na t’au l’esh’ku.” _I was there. I saw your nightmare._

Goku rested the glass back down to the tray with a soft _clink._

Vegeta switched back without pause. “You know I would never offer help willingly. It’s not natural to me. But after all we’ve been through, after everything, I thought...”

That sigh stabbed Goku’s heart—a frustrated sigh he hadn’t heard in years, of Vegeta straight-up done with him. Ready to call him a clown. A fool.

He watched his hand raise from the glass, and it shook. Hard.

Behind him, Vegeta’s voice raised louder. “So for you to go and _lie_ to me—”

It turned into a tight fist.

“—yet again _,_ to me, of all people—”

A white-knuckled tight, trembling fist.

“—someone I thought you could _trust_ —”

“ _I’m fine, dammit!_ ” Goku shouted, slamming his fist into the tray.

Food and liquid flew everywhere. Utensils and plates clattered to the stone floors, some breaking here and there, the shards littering across the room. The book Vegeta was reading laid amongst it, wide open on its back.

Goku stared at the mess below him. His breathing came out hard and fast through his nose, his teeth clenched as tight as his fists hanging by his sides. He felt a burn inside of him that threatened to blast out in a raging inferno, and he clenched his fists even tighter, the pain in his palms urging his brain to hold back, for now.

A sharp smell of herbs gut-punched him.

The woman stared right at him, stars twinkling behind her pale face and dark hair. The man stood next to her, holding her shoulder.

His hands unfurled. The fingertips tremored.

Goku forced his eyes shut.

The woman touched his face. His hair. The man too. Memorizing. Remembering.

He hissed through his teeth.

Slowly, their hands retreated away from him, before a red light slammed over him like a casket door.

Then nothing. Darkness. The blackness beneath his lids.

Goku opened his eyes and found himself back in the room, staring at the mess on the floor. He rubbed at his face—a sharp growl emerging from within when he noticed how his hands weren’t just shaking anymore. Now, it was his whole body.

A pressure rested on his shoulder. From the corner of his vision, he saw white leather. Heard it crinkle in his ear as more pressure was applied to his shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Fine. I will go tonight.” Vegeta’s words tickled the back of his neck. “On one condition. You either go to that woman’s temple and stay there, or you stay here, but you _must_ call on me. Raise your ki, and I’ll be there.”

The weight and the anger left Goku at once, a real smile crossing his features. He let it all go in a large sigh and nodded once in agreement.

Vegeta retreated his hand away. From the corner of his vision, he watched him pick up the book, shaking away any stray food or juices from its yellow pages. Then he left his purview and Goku turned to follow his retreating form out of the room, heading to the door.

“I’ll get you more food,” Vegeta said.

“Ah—” He bit his tongue for a moment, a stray hand coming the back of his head. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Hn.”

“No, really, thank you. I’m seriously grateful that you have helped me this much. You’re great.” He released a very small chuckle, scratching the back of his scalp. “Have a good time tonight! I promise if I need help, I’ll take it. Really!”

Vegeta paused for a moment, his hand wrapped around the door knob. For a moment, Goku thought he’d say something to him, the tension in the air evident. Instead, Vegeta said nothing, opening the door, his cape billowing as he closed it behind him.

His smile left once alone. Goku stared at the door for a long while, until he noticed a strong sensation digging into his arms. He frowned when he noticed his hands wrapped around his arms and recreated the bruises on the skin there, yet again. 

***

_For once, I don’t believe you._

That thought repeated in Vegeta’s head again and again as he walked down the hallway to Princess Chikora’s chambers. It was for the best that he didn’t say those words to Goku. He was too fragile to handle them—a reality that still unsettled Vegeta down to his core. It was the right decision, the mature and wise decision. But the thought kept bugging him and he burned to shout his truth aloud.

He remembered waking up to the sounds of whispers and whimpers, rolling over to his side and finding Goku twisting and turning in bed. Vegeta couldn’t make out at first what he was saying, but he honed in on his sensitive hearing and he gasped at the words spilling out. Sadalan words. Mother, _na’ma_. Father, _ja’ta_. _Please_ and _don’t go_ and _no please no_. The tears that freely flowed down Goku’s pale cheeks. His hands reaching up into thin air to grasp at what wasn’t there. Then when Goku woke up, shooting up into bed straight up like a board, Vegeta came to his side to check on him and even now, the image haunted him as much as his thoughts.

Red-rimmed eyes, wide, big, pupils-dilated. Sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead. Wet cheeks. Dry lips. Rapid fast breathing. Tremors from head to toe. Then more tears flowed, unconsciously flowed, and the way Goku touched his cheek and looked at the wetness gathered on his fingertips—Vegeta had to do something. He had to. Because never had he seen this on Goku, ever. He fantasized of it, sure, even threatened to do it to Goku himself in their earlier days. But now that it was here, he hated it, despised every second of that look on Goku’s face.

Goku was broken. Truly, and finally, broken.

At the crown princess’s door stood two soldiers. They nodded to Vegeta and stepped aside as he approached the door, knocking it three times.

A moment later, the door knob turned and out peeked the crown princess’s head, meeting Vegeta’s eye. “Yes?”

He lifted the book. “I have questions.”

Chikora opened the door wider, gesturing him inside. Much like many of the rooms of the palace, it was equally as extravagant, but its color scheme varied much from the others. Instead of burgundies and gold, it was deep, rich purples and silvers, paired alongside all the onyx. There were crystals and stones all over of various sizes, some laying out on different tables, some in cabinets. Books upon books lined the walls and the shelves, with a few wide open on her bed at the opposite side of the room.

As she closed the door, she pointed to a cherrywood table with matching chairs on either side. “Please sit. I will answer whatever I can.”

“It won’t take long.” He made his way there. “I know you’re preparing for tonight’s festivities.”

“Was reading Sadalan again troublesome?”

“If I hadn’t spoken the language with your father every waking moment since I’ve arrived, it probably would’ve been.” He took a seat, resting the book on top of the table. “I have questions on _umoya_.”

She chuckled. “As we all do.” Chikora took her own seat, settling in, her smile fading. “How is he?”

“Hn.”

“I see.”

“I told him either to go to your mentor or to stay here but call on me.”

“And he won’t.”

Vegeta sighed. “No, he won’t.”

“Pride runs deep in your blood as does his, whether he knows it or accepts it.” Chikora slid her hand across the table to take the old book back into her possession. “Martyrs rarely ever perceive themselves that way.” She slid the book into a nearby shelf beside the table. “Now, what about _umoya_?”

“It talks about how and what _umoya_ is, how a person can gain another ‘color’ to their own and its importance,” he said. “But how much energy transference is needed to change an umoya color?”

“It depends. A paltry amount wouldn’t affect _umoya_ that much, or last long at all. It would have to be an extraordinary amount, like if two Saiyans performed fusion.”

“You know of it?”

“Only because of Caulifla and Kale. But they were already becoming _mah’kha’ir_. The _r’bhon’or_ started between them long ago. All those earrings did was speed up the process.”

“Do you know of the fusion dance, then?” When she shook her head no, Vegeta continued. “I learned it from Kakarot. He, himself, learned that in Other World, when he was dead, again.” Vegeta waved a hand in the air at Chikora’s puzzled look. “Long story. Not worth getting into now. I don’t know who exactly he learned it from, but you’ve said that fusion would affect _umoya’ir_. To what extent?”

“Again, it depends. When was the last time you fused with Goku?”

“A few months ago. And then a few months prior to that, with Potara earrings.”

She shook her head, a small smile rising on her face. “No wonder Cabba thought you two were mates. Even now, your _umoya’ir_ are twined perfectly together.”

“Will it eventually go away?”

“Yes.” Chikora frowned. “Though…”

“What?”

She leaned forward, her eyes squinting a little. A small tilt of her head. Then her eyes flew wide open, her lips in a soft ‘o’ shape. “You’ve done this before with him, haven’t you? More than twice?”

Inside, Vegeta felt his guts twist up and his skin turn cold at her questions. On the outside, he nodded. “Three fusions between us.”

“And a willing energy transference.”

“Yes. At the Tournament of Power.”

“Then you _need_ to go to Lady Kohltavi. Find her at the center of our planet, on the highest mountain, in the thickest forest. The stone around your neck will guide you there. It houses some of my father’s energy. She actually knew of fusion before any of us did, so she would be able to give you the answers you seek.” Chikora leaned back, shaking her head. “It’s unusual. Because from what I see, looking at your umoya now, and from the timeline you’ve given me, your umoya should be almost back to normal. Not like this.”

He rose from the chair, bowing slightly to her. “D’in m’yo, ve’ho’tah Chikora. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Of course, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

Vegeta marched right to the door. If he closed it behind him or not, he didn’t know.

His mind burned with questions and anger—unadulterated, pure anger. If he hadn’t fused, ever, with the man—if he hadn’t given Goku any of his energy at the Tournament of Power—if he hadn’t coerced the man to come with him to Planet Sadala to begin with—

 _Damn you, Kakarot._ His fists shook by his sides as he continued marching down the hallway, right to his personal chambers. _Damn me._

***

Bored. Goku was bored, and lonely, and he hated that he was bored and lonely. After the servants cleaned up the mess and presented to him another breakfast, he found himself all alone in his chambers, because he didn’t want to leave the room. Not when he knew what was waiting for him outside. Not when he could understand everyone and knew what they thought of him now.

So he tried practicing katas in the room wearing only his sleeping shorts from the night before. It was big enough that he could do it safely and freely without fear of knocking into anything and breaking it. But the more he moved, the more he noticed his ki rising, and rising, to the point where he had to stop and restart, else he would’ve definitely destroyed the room itself. It happened too many times to his liking and Goku stopped after the sixth try, and he needed to close his eyes and meditate standing in order to calm himself down.

And Goku hated that he had to do that. He hated that he couldn’t go outside without fear of others talking about him. He hated that he couldn’t practice without his ki skyrocketing up without his say-so. He hated that he was alone, that he was bored, that he felt trapped in his room and had nowhere to go until later this evening, when another one of those stupid festival holy day things happened, and he had to wear that stupid outfit.

He hated Vegeta, too, for making him come here, for putting him first and letting his happiness override his own wants and needs. He hated that he cared what Vegeta thought and believed, what Vegeta wanted and didn’t want. Hated that Vegeta wanted him to stay and he did. Hated that Vegeta fit in better than him. Hated that everyone loved Vegeta and wanted nothing to do with himself. Hated that Vegeta checked up on him, stayed with him, held his hand, got him breakfast, called him out, and yet gave him the space he needed—and Goku _didn’t_ want that space. He wanted Vegeta there, but he pushed Vegeta away, so it was really his own fault that Vegeta was gone and not here anymore, but Vegeta should’ve known better than to go. He should’ve known. This was all Vegeta’s fault. All his fault.

But he stopped himself from going further down that line of thinking with a sharp shake of his head. He slipped on his orange gi and made himself go outside, despite the shake in his breath and the tremors in his hands. He knew he couldn’t be inside that room anymore, alone. He had to go do something, anything, whatever could be done to release this energy inside of him.

By chance, and on the hope that at least _one_ person would spar with him, Goku went right to the _ambuwa gumisou_. Like the last time, there were many guards around, sparring, meditating, practicing with weapons, chatting with others. A few sat in the marble stands, eating food or drinking, laughing, smiling. Camaraderie. Companionship.

It was in those stands that he caught a familiar face, laughing and smiling with a large group of Saiyans all dressed the same way in Sadalan Defense Forces armor. He paused for a moment, debating whether or not to come over, but that face caught his eye and he watched recognition dawn on Cabba from across the grounds. A weight lifted from his chest when Cabba smiled wide and waved him over to the group. But the weight returned when the soldiers all gave him a weird look as he walked closer. Not distrustful, but not welcoming either. Just… watching. Judging. Observing.

“Everyone, this is Goku!” Cabba stood up, gesturing to him as he came closer. “A Saiyan from Universe 7 along with Prince Vegeta.”

The others nodded. A few said _t’eh_ , or _m’hol_ , or _n’jala_ , all under their breaths, all generally meaning hello, hi, or afternoon. Some bothered waving hello. But that was the extent of the greeting.

Goku nodded back to them, bottling up the urge to say _t’eh_ back, because the chances of him saying it wrong were high enough to hold himself back. He turned to Cabba, forcing a wide grin on his face. “Nice to see ya, Cabba! Wanna spar?”

“I’d be delighted to.” Cabba turned back to the soldiers, switching to Sadalan. “It won’t take long. He’s much more powerful than me like Prince Vegeta, but it’ll be a good workout.”

One of the soldiers glanced at Goku, frowned, then returned his attention to Cabba. “You sure about that?”

“He hurt Arti and Chuk pretty badly yesterday,” another piped up.

“And Endav is still healing,” yet another said, glaring at Goku for a split second.

“Prince Vegeta pulled all his punches with you,” one more said.

“And showed you honor with your fight,” the last one said, “unlike this so-called Saiyan.”

Cabba’s words sounded underwater to Goku, the world around him turning fuzzy and blurry. “If you guys actually paid attention yesterday, Goku was doing the same thing too. Just because he was raised on another planet and lost all his memories doesn’t make him any less Saiyan than we are.” Blackness lined the edge of Goku’s vision as he watched Cabba turn around, switching out of Sadalan. “Sorry about that, Goku. I’m ready now!”

He could have run away. He should have. Just bowed out and walked away and gone to that bazaar outside the palace again. All the faces behind Cabba, the soldiers of the Sadalan Defense Forces, fellow Saiyans— _our_ _people_ , he told Vegeta—they hated him. He could see it clear as day. No one liked him. No one trusted him. No one wanted to be around him. He stood out too much, acted too weird, made a bad first impression that lasted, probably even a bad second and third impression too, and word got around fast, too fast.

Instead, Goku forced his smile to grow wider and silently hoped nothing wet shined in his eyes. “Great!” he replied, grateful his voice didn’t sound weird or off. “Let’s go!”

It felt _good_ sparring someone again, someone Goku had to put some effort into. He matched Cabba at Super Saiyan 2 no problem, kicking, hitting, fighting on the ground and in the air. Cabba tried a few sneak attacks that kept Goku on his toes, where he had to break out Instant Transmission to get away in the nick of time. Thoughts of before meant nothing. Only the here and now, this fight, his opponent, that was the focus. Nothing else, nothing but this, and for the first time in what felt like a while, Goku felt right.

Unlike before, where people stayed to their own devices, they watched their fight. Not as many people gathered over time like Vegeta’s did, but it was still a lot. In the corner of his vision, he noticed some Saiyans pointing at him, commenting to each other—still wary, still judging, but whatever hate or anger they possessed seemed to dissipate the more they fought. And it spurned Goku on to fight harder, to work smarter against Cabba, to not automatically power up higher to a Super Saiyan 3 or a Super Saiyan God. It was better, and more fun, to stick to this level and get creative, rather than rely on brute power. Plus, who knew what these Saiyans would think, seeing Super Saiyan God form, from himself of all people.

One particularly harsh kick from Cabba sent Goku flying hard, out of control. He used some ki to stop himself in the nick of time from hitting the ground. The impact was still a good distance away from the dirt, but it was too close for comfort.

Above him Cabba charged a heavy attack, the yellow light mixed with a bit of blue—almost like Vegeta’s Big Bang Attack—and Goku smirked, turning a little to the side with his hands cupped and ready.

Blue light slowly built in his hands. “Ka…”

It steadily grew as Cabba’s attack above him did as well. “Me…”

The light felt good. _This_ felt good. “Ha…”

Cabba’s attack looked ready. “Me…”

And so was he. Goku poised himself, opened his mouth—

_“Kakarot!”_

Darkness. Nothingness.

The whole world, gone in an instant. A void of nothing before him.

Goku’s hands released the ki. It flickered away like a dying light.

_“Kakarot!”_

That woman’s voice.

_“Kakarot, please!”_

He turned around.

In the far distance, he made out the figure of that pale face, dark haired woman from behind a round, blood red glass window. Beside her stood that carbon copy of a man, his large hand resting on the glass.

Loud banging, like drums, echoed and reverberated, splitting his head in half. The sound intensified as he came closer to the red glass window, their figures coming more into focus.

A scar on the man’s left cheek. Rough hands. The woman’s hands, soft, supple, gentle. Kind eyes shining like the stars behind them both. Her lips quivering.

Her lips parting to say words he couldn’t discern. They sounded clogged up, underwater, overpowered by the sound of drums, but her lips formed the word “come” and he inched closer to the window, trying to make out whatever else she said.

His heart froze when he made out one phrase.

“… _come get you_...”

Goku reached his hand up to touch the glass—

Darkness.

Nothingness.

A void of blackness and _pain._

Voices. Lots of voices. Dirt in his hands. Dirt underneath him. Pain everywhere.

Hands touched his body, his forehead, his neck. More voices, concerned, wary, shocked voices, all around. He groaned, forced his eyes open and found a bright blue, cloudless sky above him.

Then a Saiyan soldier came into view. Then another. And another. Finally Cabba, and they looked down at him, all bug-eyed, all slack-jawed, all shaking from head-to-toe. Only Cabba moved, his trembling hand coming to his mouth and covering it.

A guttural voice cut through the silence. “Get princess Chikora to Kakarot’s room, right now.”

Strong arms dug into the dirt underneath him. More pain shot through his system as they lifted him out slow, almost careful and considerate in the movement.

Goku groaned, his head turning to the side—and his cheek hit a solid piece of armor. White armor, with a blood red symbol on it.

_Vegeta…_

“Cabba.” That voice sounded downright pissed. “ _Go._ ”

Hands grasped him better under his torso and legs. The world tilted and moved as Vegeta pulled his body up, secured him and took him away from the training grounds. He felt thousands of eyes upon him, thousands of Saiyans, staring, and he turned his head further into Vegeta’s chest, succumbing the darkness of his lids.

***

Voices woke Goku. Many voices, some overlapping each other. They sounded hushed and quiet and almost inaudible at times, but they were there, encompassing him, coming from every direction. 

He felt bitterness in his throat, a mush behind his teeth, and he licked them once to find the familiar taste of a crushed senzu bean. On his forehead he felt a cold washcloth, bedsheets tucked in around him, and a cool bed underneath his sore and tired body.

The world felt off and wrong. Things felt tilted and weird and not right. Too much darkness surrounding him. Too many voices surrounding him. 

He groaned, forced his eyes to cooperate, but nothing worked. Against his bare chest, the stone burned his skin, and he wanted to rip it off, throw it away, but his limbs didn’t cooperate either. He only saw darkness and only heard voices.

Vegeta’s voice. “…the bean healed his injuries…”

Chikora’s voice. “…his mind needs…”

The King’s too. “…watch him closely…”

They went in and out and Goku couldn’t make out every phrase or word. They switched between Sadalan and not-Sadalan, said things that made no sense, said things he wanted to hear more about, but his body wasn’t his own, nothing was in his control, nothing was okay, he wasn’t okay—

A soft hand rested on his head. Then a soothing warmth seemed to ooze out of it throughout his scalp, down to his forehead, to his temples. Little by little, Goku succumbed to that warmth, his breathing evening out, his body sinking deeper into the bed. Even the stone stopped burning, almost turning into a gentle, extra weight that eased him deeper into relaxation.

Beside him, he heard Chikora say in Sadalan, “You didn’t have to.”

The hand stroked his forehead, back and forth. Familiar. Comforting.

Vegeta’s voice even sounded comforting too. “Might as well.” Almost… amused.

He fell asleep to the sensations on his forehead.

***

When Goku awoke later, he found himself cold and alone. Outside his window, he noticed a dark sky, no clouds and lights glowing from the ground below. He heard Saiyans laughing, drinking, eating and cheering, all celebrating in the festivities of another holy night, all in the name of the goddess Soli.

Slowly he sat up in bed, noticing his orange gi top was gone and he only wore his pants instead. He scratched his neck, stretched his arms overhead, his body cracking in different parts. Whatever injuries he suffered taking Cabba’s blast full on were taken care of by that bean.

He leaned against the headboard, listening to the sounds of the planet outside as he gathered what had happened beforehand. Cabba caught him off guard and every soldier in the palace saw it. Vegeta took him away—carried him away no less, which every soldier saw as well. Vegeta, Chikora and the King were here, most likely talking about him, and from what the King said, needing to look over him.

Vegeta, touching his forehead. Soothing him again. Helping him again. In front of everyone, again.

Goku sighed, sinking deeper into the sheets.

Alone. It was best he was alone and locked up, away from everyone on the planet. Here, no one could hurt him, or see him, or talk to him, or know he was even there anymore. Then Vegeta could enjoy the rest of his trip without him ruining it.

Against his chest, the stone burned, yet again. He reached up to touch it, grasping it in one hand. It soon burned his palm and he hissed, wincing at the pain—

_“Kakarot...”_

The pain stopped.

He shot his head up.

_“Kakarot, please!”_

The woman’s voice came right from the window, crisp and clear.

Goku stood up from the bed, staring outside that window—but he didn’t see the normal Sadalan nighttime landscape. Instead it was full of stars, as endless and vast as the universe itself. They filled up the world outside, and part of him wanted to stay back, to hide away, to not go. Maybe even call Vegeta for help—

But the woman’s voice returned, louder, stronger, screaming, _“Kakarooot!”_

He gripped the stone hard as he leapt out the window.

The stars transformed into streaks of light amongst the inky blackness. He fell into a void that went on and on, never ending, never ceasing, and he willed himself to keep his eyes open the entire time. Even as the light got brighter and the darkness dissipated, he fought to close them.

Things turned and tilted and warped. He felt his body twisted and distorted into so many directions, it disturbed and disgusted him. Bile rose in his throat, the light was too much, pain filtered through all of his senses, and his brain _screamed_ at him to stop this, all of this, but he held on through it all. He forced himself down, down, down into the abyss that transformed into a world of light and kept going.

Soon the darkness went away and all he saw was white light, blinding white light, light that burned, light that ached. Light that didn’t soothe, didn’t help, didn’t feel good whatsoever. Light that suffocated and choked and closed itself around Goku and burned his eyes, his arms, his legs, the stone—

Goku growled as he finally gave in, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then, his feet hit solid ground.

Goku opened his eyes to a world of yellow. No discernable figures or locations. Just yellow light—yellow _liquid_ , really. There were people outside of the liquid that surrounded him, and he wasn’t strong enough to see, let alone move.

Through the liquid, he saw the outline of the woman’s face. Her small, lithe body. She wore battle armor he knew, battle armor from the Frieza Force, and for the first time, she looked happy.

Beside her, Goku saw the outline of the man, similar to his own stature.

They chatted to each other, she looking at the man, and the man looking right at Goku. Unlike the woman, he looked stern, serious, determined.

He said something, and the woman looked confused, then shocked—very shocked. She shouted at him, he talked back, she shouted even louder, on the verge of screaming, an obvious crack in her voice, and he talked yet again, resolute in his tone, but understanding. Goku watched her nod, no longer shouting. Both talked normally, conversing in hushed tones now, until they disappeared from his view and there was only yellow again.

Yellow gave way to black. The world turned cold—freezing cold. He shivered all over, his hands coming up to rub his arms, right where he kept bruising himself, but warm hands beat him to it.

Her hands, that woman’s hands, rubbed up and down the skin. She ran a towel over his hair, over his body, talking to him, but he understood none of it. Nothing felt good or right. He wanted the warmth, wanted her warmth, her arms, wanted to be with her so badly, but she forced him into some clothing, pushed his head through the hole of something blocky and big, shoved his feet into boots that felt too big to his body. All the while, Goku felt tears run down his face, his hands shoving hers, trying to push her away, trying to stop her, but she was so much stronger than him that he couldn’t do anything.

Then she scooped him up in her arms and held him tight, buried her face into his wild mane of hair and planted a long, lingering kiss to his scalp. Goku caught a strong scent of fresh herbs coming from her. That smell and her touch together calmed him down enough to let her carry him away and out into the world, where the man waited for them both, his body silhouetted by the moonlight.

The two shared quiet words. The man gestured to something nearby—Goku gasped—a pod. A Saiyan pod, and it came closer as the woman guided him to it.

The man opened it up. She placed him inside, and before he could grab her, the man slammed the door shut.

Darkness inside. Cold inside. His only window to the world was round and red and only showed the stars above, nothing else.

Goku banged his hands on the window again, and again, and again. Beat it over and over until it resembled the sound of drums as he felt the pod lift and move through the night, through the world. His body rocked here and there, but he kept pounding again, and again, and again, his voice hoarse, his face wet. But they weren’t stopping. They weren’t listening. All he saw were the stars outside getting brighter and stronger, with more popping up until they filled the entire sky.

His fists hurt. “ _Na’ma!_ ” But he kept pounding. _“Ja’ta!_ ” He kept screaming. “ _Na’ma! Ja’ta!_ ” The only words he knew.

Mother. Father.

The stars stopped moving. The pod too.

Outside the red window, the man and the woman spoke to each other. Goku understood none of it. All of it sounded underwater like before, like always. He sniffled, wiping at his eyes, tired of the cold, tired of the darkness, tired of not understanding.

When he looked up, he saw them looking right at him. The man spoke. The woman stared, leaning in. Goku stood up and reached forward, both of his hands landing onto the red glass—and he caught how small and tiny and juvenile they looked in his purview.

The woman planted a hand on the glass, as if trying to touch his cheek. He leaned in closer, trying to capture that warmth again—that scent of herbs again.

She said something. He tried listening in, tried understanding, but it was all underwater, garbled nonsense, and he growled in frustration—

Then her voice broke through the water, loud and clear.

“If your father’s wrong about this, then, we’ll come and get you immediately,” she said, her voice breaking.

The man loomed over her, slamming his hand onto the pod, looking right at him with such pride, Goku couldn’t believe it. “Listen, son. You do what it takes to survive, got it?”

His other large hand rested on the glass. Goku watched his own small own press up against it.

The man’s soft “goodbye” cut through like a knife.

Time slowed down as their faces began to descend from view. His hands stuck to the window, his eyes gazing down at them, at a world that shrunk with every second, at a planet that he didn’t know and wouldn’t ever know.

He watched their forms get smaller, and smaller, and the stars get closer, and brighter, until all he saw was the last light from a waning moon, all the stars and the nothing endlessness of space.

But the woman’s words. Her final scream to him. He heard it. Goku heard it.

_“Don’t forget us, Kakarooot!”_

A loud crack broke through the air.

Goku stared down at the ground beneath him.

There, he found the stone that previously lived around his neck on a dirt ground, no longer a thin piece but back to the regular size that Chikora initially gave him. The gold chain was nowhere to be found.

He looked up and found himself in a barren wasteland of sand and dirt and nothingness. Barren wasteland of nothingness.

As nothing as the sky above him. As empty and void as space around him. The only thing Goku saw were the stars, endless amounts of stars, twinkling, shining, and the light of a waxing moon.

The stars blurred.

He blinked once, twice, but the blurriness didn’t leave.

All the stars. The same stars, but not every star was actually alive. Some were from a world that no longer existed. Or a supernova. An explosion of the past. Echoes of a past. Echoes of what was.

Echoes. Memories.

His memories.

Goku collapsed to his knees.

His parents.

Tears trickled down his cheeks to his jawline, down to his neck.

“Na’ma,” Goku whispered. “Ja’ta.”

The last thing he saw were those stars before his world submerged in a sea of bright light.

***

It was a beautiful ceremony, very unlike the previous evenings. At the center of the banquet floor stood the crown princess Chikora, finishing off an impressive demonstration of Sadalan magic, dressed in purple shades from head-to-toe. Crystals hung off every piece of her body, adding to the act she presented. Many in the crowd cheered and praised her before she even finished.

At the end of the hall sat Vegeta, next to the King per usual. But unlike previous evenings, he wasn’t as talkative or responsive to the King, or to anyone. Most understood why. What happened at the _ambuwa gumisou_ traveled fast, and even now, everyone praised Cabba for being the stronger of the two visitors. Vegeta could see it now from where he sat, how Cabba was waving off another Saiyan, looking more annoyed then he did earlier in the evening. Of course Cabba was telling the truth, that he simply caught Goku off-guard, but no Saiyan seemed to care. None of them did. Aside from the royal family, no one asked Vegeta nor Cabba how Goku was doing.

Vegeta clapped with the rest of the crowd as Chikora finished with a gracious bow. The evening was almost over, thankfully. Only an hour left, and he could retire and check on Goku. He shouldn’t have switched from annoyance and anger to concern so easily, but it terrified him when he felt Goku’s ki drop out of nowhere earlier in the day. He didn’t think. He bounded out of his chamber’s window, zeroing in on that ki, only to find the man buried in the ground, riddled with injuries from a massive blast. He didn’t miss the way Goku tried to hide into his chest when he picked him up, or the way his cheeks turned bright red. Any other time, Vegeta would’ve told him to snap out of it, to act like a Saiyan and toughen up, to not be so stupid and to pay attention next time. Not now. Not when Goku was like this.

He shouldn’t have stayed in Goku’s room either. Should’ve left once he gave Goku the crushed up senzu bean and Chikora arrived with her healing magic. He wasn’t needed there. He was still mad at Goku after all. But there was a big part of him that demanded he stayed and watch Chikora heal whatever the senzu bean couldn’t, so he did. Whatever it would take to stop the worry inside of him so he could go back to being annoyed and angry. But it didn’t stop. The worry only heightened to a new level when Chikora announced he was physically healed, but mentally was scarred. His uncovered memories damaged pieces of him that she couldn’t fix, because Goku hadn’t uncovered all of them yet.

The King spoke, so did Chikora after that, but Vegeta only looked at Goku then. Only focused on what was said. His memories were tearing him apart. Breaking him inside. Mental damage. All this, on top of everything the man went through so far—on top of learning a new language he should’ve known, cultural customs he should’ve known, a race he should’ve known, but forgot, he forgot everything—

Vegeta stared at his gloved hand—the hand that transferred energy to Goku, willingly, again.

Chikora’s shocked gasp caught him too late. When he saw Goku thrashing in bed, muttering in Sadalan again the words for mother and father, he came to his side and did what he did the night before. He soothed him with gentle brush of fingertips to his scalp, his temples, his forehead. But he added a little ki to the movements, a ki that he willed every thought of calmness and relaxation into, so that Goku could finally rest.

What he did most likely worsened their situation, albeit it was a very small, insignificant amount of energy transferred. But what was done couldn’t be reversed. It was done, and it helped Goku go to sleep, so that was it. _Might as well,_ he said earlier, and Vegeta believed it now, because despite his concern, he was still annoyed as hell at the man for putting them into this predicament with their very first fusion, and every fusion afterwards. He could live with both being angry and being concerned. It was a normal occurrence having Goku around his life.

Beside him, the King leaned in and said, “You can leave early, if you so wish.”

“I can last an hour, m’yo Ve’ho.”

“Aiii, but your _umoya_ says differently.”

Vegeta eyed him. “How so?”

“It’s flickering colors like a burning flame. Us royals are very sensitive magic users and we can see _umoya’ir_ better than most others, with my Chikora being the best of us.” The King gestured towards the door at the end of the hall. “Go, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

“King Sadala—”

Ki spiked out of nowhere.

Vegeta shot out of his chair.

A large ki that grew, and grew, out in the middle of nowhere.

Many Saiyans in the room looked at him, then each other, and then towards the windows, searching for the source of the ki.

It burned bright, ridiculously bright, growing at an astronomical rate, like a supernova—

Vegeta gasped.

_Kakarot._

The hall disappeared behind him, as well as the palace. Cold night slapped Vegeta’s face, putting every ounce of ki into his flight. He zeroed in on that bright ki, flying over mountains and meadows and hills and forests until he ended up in a barren wasteland so similar to Earth’s, he almost was taken back. Almost, because that ki demanded his attention—and there it was, bright and burning and engulfing the world around it like a black hole.

He landed next to it, squinting against the light, a hand covering his eyes. His cape fluttered behind him from the ki it gave off. He attempted stepping closer, but it burned his hands, searing his gloves and leaving a black residue on the tips.

Vegeta hissed under his breath, gritting his teeth. He squinted harder, searching, looking for him.

A few blinks later, and there, in the light, he could finally make out Goku’s form in the inferno: on his knees, hands covering his face. Burning his ki. Destroying his ki.

“Kakarot!”

He tried one more time, only to feel his hands burn again, as well as the top of his knees and his boots. Vegeta growled, summoning some ki to protect himself as he shouted, “Stop! You can’t do this to yourself!”

No response.

“Kakarot, please!”

Nothing again.

The ki only burned brighter, rose higher, expanded bigger.

Vegeta stepped back a few feet away. He shook his head as he aimed his palm to the light.

He muttered, “I’m sorry.”

It only took a few seconds to stop the light. Vegeta lifted his hand overhead and dispersed the absorbed energy out to the sky above, where it spread across the night like streaks of falling stars.

In the middle of the burnt, scorched earth knelt Goku, his orange gi pants tattered and singed, his skin covered in burns of varying degrees. Trails of smoke lifted from his body and his hair alike.

Slowly, Vegeta made his way over to him. He knelt in front of Goku, forcing his arms to stay by his sides.

He watched those hands flop down from Goku’s face to his lap. All Vegeta saw were wet cheeks, wide eyes, pale skin and dry lips.

Those wide eyes then looked right at him, almost right through him even. A shell of a man. A ghost of what he was. Completely, truly broken.

His dry lips moved, trying to form words. It took a moment for anything to come out, but soon, a crackly, hoarse voice broke through the silence.

“I forgot,” Goku said. “I forgot _them_.” He shook all over as his gaze gravitated up to the stars above. “Her last wish, and I…” Two tears streaked down his grey face. “I forgot them. I…”

Vegeta’s arms shot out before his mind caught up to him, catching Goku’s unconscious form before it slammed into the ground. He carefully cradled the man to him, lifting him up, cautious of the nasty looking burns on his arms, chest or legs.

He gave Goku a look over, shook his head and blasted off into the cool night air, right for the palace.

***

A half-hour later, a woman in rich purple harem pants and top stood before Goku’s prone form on his bed. Her wrinkled hands glowed a gentle yellow light over each of Goku’s wounds. Surrounding the bed in Goku’s chambers stood the King, the crown princess and Vegeta, watching her work and heal each burn until there was nothing but clean skin.

Once she finished, the woman turned to the King, bowing her head. “Yi’gra, m’yo Ve’ho.” _It is done, my King._

“Uzko du Soli, Lady Kohltavi,” the King replied. “I cannot thank you enough for arriving at such a late hour.”

“For this n’dra’ge, I saw no reason not to.” She sighed, rubbing her face, her ruby nose ring twinkling in the dim candlelight around them. “At least it is done. There is nothing else he has to remember.”

Chikora bowed her head, lifting a stone around her neck to her lips. “Soli, n’tir t’au n’dra’ge.” _Soli, protect your brave one._ She kissed it.

“He will need both goddesses watching over him tonight,” Kohltavi said. “I saw what his mind was hiding and knew it would affect him deeply.” She looked at Goku again, shaking her head. “But not like this. Not to the point of burning his own ki.”

The King clutched his own stone around his neck. “Tor, n’tir kh’o’tash _._ ” _Tor, protect this child._

“May the goddesses favor and guide him.” Kohltavi then walked over to Vegeta. “And may the goddesses give you the same. This will not be easy for you.”

Vegeta frowned at her words. “What do you mean?”

She, too, frowned in response. “Are you not _mah’kha’or_? Your _umoya’ir_ —”

“Fusion, Lady Kohltavi,” Chikora said, coming between them. “They’ve performed it more than once. He explained it all to me, but I suggested he talk to you.”

Lady Kohltavi looked him up and down, once, before turning away and heading to the door. “Tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is this Saiyan and nothing else.”

“Yes, Lady Kohltavi,” Chikora replied, bowing to her.

The King clasped a hand onto Vegeta’s shoulder, leaning in. “Let us know if you need anything.” He squeezed hard for a brief moment before letting go and gesturing to his daughter to follow.

Silence followed the gentle closing of the chamber door. Vegeta stood next to the bed, watching the soft rise and fall of Goku’s chest underneath the covers. A lone candle sat next to the bed, casting shadows over his pale face. No burns lingered. Not a scratch on him. As if what occurred earlier in that wasteland never happened at all.

He glanced down at his singed gloves.

Hands that burnt from energy. Hands that took energy away.

Vegeta yanked the gloves off, throwing them into a corner of the room. The rest of his outfit followed soon after. Only the stone and the cape were given special attention, both laying over the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed.

He climbed into bed and under the covers, then curled onto his side, staring at Goku. Cool wind rustled the curtains around, whistling and echoing in the chambers. The candles all around flickered as well, but none lost their flame.

Beside his face, one of his hands turned into a tight fist, curling around the sheets.

 _How dare you_ was the first thought that came to mind. _How dare you do this to yourself. How fucking dare you. Losing control, succumbing to ki burn, over what—forgetting your parents? Forgetting your past? You dumb piece of—_

Vegeta shut his eyes.

Big, long inhale. Hold.

His exhale pushed through both his nose and his mouth. The sound lingered in the air.

When he looked at Goku again, he unfurled his fist and reached his hand closer to his sleeping form. Almost touching his arm, where he saw the peak of bruises there, sneaking over the edge of the burgundy sheets.

He voiced his last thought aloud: “Don’t you _ever_ do that again.”

Part of him hoped there would be a response, that Goku would wake up without a care in the world and without thought about what happened before. That he’d laugh that stupid laugh and scratch the back of his head and apologize and promise not to do it again and actually mean it. That he’d do all that and then say he was starving and wanted food or a spar or both and Vegeta would get annoyed and angry at him and they’d bicker and argue and… things would be okay again. Goku would be okay again. Normal again.

But there was nothing but the sound of cool wind and Goku’s tempered, soft breathing. That was it. The hope of having anything normal felt too far away, if not impossible of ever returning. Things had changed. Goku had changed.

He remembered Kohltavi’s words and frowned.

Maybe he, himself, had changed too, against his will.

His gaze returned to Goku’s sleeping form, and the frown disappeared.

_Tomorrow, Kohltavi said. Tomorrow._

Vegeta scooted closer to Goku. He rose his hand up and rested it on his forehead. Fingertips rubbed back and forth over the ashen skin, up into his soft hair, the scalp, and back down again. This time, no energy emerged from his hand.

But he still noticed a difference with each stroke, how Goku seemed to relax more, how his breathing seemed to deepen and even out more. He just looked… better. Not normal, not anywhere near it at all. Just… better.

He did it again, and again, and again, until his arm tired and he pulled away. Vegeta took his time leaving the bed to walk around the room and blow out the candles, returning back to it just as carefully as he left. Goku seemed to not stir at all from his movements, a sight that untwisted a knot Vegeta didn’t know he housed inside his stomach.

Vegeta curled to his side, facing Goku. Faint moonlight trickled into the dark room from the world outside, the silver light peeking through the curtains. It silhouetted Goku’s sharp features, made his black hair glisten just a little, gave a small glow to some of his pale skin.

It made him look normal. Look okay. Like everything was going to be okay.

Slowly, Vegeta inched his hand across the bed. He rested his fingertips to Goku’s biceps, right over the bruises there. Soon, the sound of the man’s breathing lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was *tough* to get out. I rewrote this at least three times. But at least it's done! Onwards and upwards from here.


	5. Chapter 5

Vegeta hated every second of this. It was a repeat of last night, all of them surrounding the bed—himself, the King, the Crown Princess—watching Lady Kohltavi and her glowing yellow hands run over Goku who laid lifeless in bed. But she wasn’t roaming her hands over his body this time. Now she focused them only on Goku’s head, the light pouring out over his hair, down his forehead and cheeks, right to his neck and collarbones. It glittered here and there in the powerful sunlight seeping into the room from the large window.

He hated doing this again. Hated that this was all he could do, but call upon someone who had a better understanding of what Goku was going through—what he had endured, really. But Vegeta had no choice. When he woke up that morning and tried stirring Goku awake, the man didn’t wake. He didn’t move at all, no matter what Vegeta did. Gentle shaking and soft whispers quickly escalated to violent shaking and loud shouts. But Goku didn’t move. Didn’t do anything. He laid under the covers, in that bed, as if dead. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his belly and the soft breaths trickling from his dry lips, Vegeta would’ve believed the man was gone. 

So there he stood in his full royal regalia with the royal court as well, including the two hellion twin princes, who at least were being quiet and respectful in the presence of a grand elder. Stood there and watched and suppressed every urge to tap his foot or tap his fingers or growl or twitch or anything at all that could’ve given away the nervousness he felt inside.

How much time had passed since Kohltavi arrived and started her magic process, he had no idea. Only once did she move to ask Chikora for some sort of stone to assist her, but that was it. She continued her work with that stone now attached to one of her many bracelets, her wrinkled hands moving like spiders legs, grazing over Goku’s wild black hair. With her eyes tightly closed, her lips muttered words Vegeta didn’t know or understand and didn’t care to either. As long as whatever she did was working.

Chikora stood beside him, clutching the stone around her neck with both hands. The King flanked his other side, mimicking his stance—legs straight, back straight, arms crossed. But he noticed the King too held onto his own stone in one hand, his right fingers clutching around it. Vegeta’s own stone rested against the middle of his breastplate, but he resist the urge to follow.

Then, Kohltavi removed her glowing hands. Her eyes fluttered open, her lips flattening to a tight frown. “Ji’ka’o.” _Shit._

“What is it?” Princess Chikora asked.

“Y’eh na dra’zela.” _He has ‘war mind.’_

Chikora gasped, one hand covering her mouth. The King muttered, wide-eyed, under his breath, “Oh Soli no.” 

Behind Vegeta, he heard one of the twins, Baternat, ask the question Vegeta had too. “R’en nu ‘dra’zela’?” _What is ‘war mind’?_

“A terrible condition, child,” Kohltavi said, looking back at Goku’s sleeping form. “It is the scarring of the mind, causing irreparable damage to a Saiyan who has endured too much, too fast. Succumbing to _dra’zela_ changes a Saiyan. Once they awaken, there is a high chance that whoever they were before is gone for good.” She brushed a hand over his hair. “But even now, he fights it. Whether he knows it or not, his spirit and will are strong.” Her hand lingered a moment over his scalp before returning to her side. “I don’t know if he will survive unscathed though.”

Baternat’s snort stabbed Vegeta in the heart.

Courget’s words did too. “Good.”

Then came Baternat’s reply. “Maybe he’ll be more Saiyan now.”

On either side of Vegeta, he heard Chikora’s Sadalan shout of “ _Hi’nai!_ ” The King’s guttural snarl of “ _Ho’ta’shi._ ” He heard their words overlap each other, admonishing, berating the princes behind him. But a loud roar grew in his mind, a roar of a tidal wave that rose the longer he stared at Goku’s prone form. Soon that roar drowned out whatever else the King and the princess said, until all Vegeta heard was a long drone of white noise.

One after another, Kohltavi’s words hit him like devastating punches. Terrible condition. War mind. Scarring. Irreparable. Never the same. Fighting it. Might not be the same.

Vegeta’s throat closed up. The world blurred around his vision, except Goku.

Never the same. Might not be the same. Scarring of the mind. Endured too much, too fast.

He watched the rise and fall of Goku’s chest.

Irreparable damage. Mind scarred. Not the same.

Goku slept on. Even now, he fought. Even now, and yet it might…

He might not…

A burn hit Vegeta’s eyes.

_My fault._

Behind him, he made out the sound of the twins’s voices. Laughing. Mocking. Ignoring the King, ignoring the princess.

Slowly, Vegeta’s hands twisted into tight fists by his sides.

The roar in his head hit a crescendo.

Around him, the world blurred and bathed in a light of red. He felt his arms move, his body move, his fingers grip flesh tight, but he didn’t see anything. Nothing registered in his vision. But he heard and felt an animalistic, primal _snarl_ rumble out of him, rising from the depths of his guts, up his throat and out into the chambers.

Seconds later, his vision returned. Up against the double doors, Baternat and Courget struggled, choking for air, with Vegeta’s gloved hands wrapped tight around each of their windpipes. Red glowed off his arms, his whole body, and he realized then he transformed into Super Saiyan God without effort or thought given.

He eased up on his grip a little, enough for the two princes to cough and hack and wheeze for air, their hands no longer clawing at each of his, but still holding on.

Vegeta leaned in, staring right at their scared, horrified faces.

“Boku’ni Saiyan lo pha y’eh ku’fan’il.” _Show this Saiyan the respect he deserves_. He closed what little gap was left between them as he sneered, “ _O’m’eh’ba yez t’au_.” _Or I will make you._

He stepped away and let go at the same time he slipped out of the Super Saiyan God form. The princes collapsed to the ground with a groan, their hands coming up to their throats. No sympathy arose when he heard telltale sniffs from each of them.

Behind him, the King ordered, “Tha’bo ude.” _Take them away._ The nanny crossed into view, scooping up both princes in her arms and scurrying out of the room before either prince could complain. The click of heels came close to Vegeta, until he felt the King’s presence beside him. “I could punish you for what you did.”

“Hn.”

A small chuckle. “As if I could, _k’ne_?”

“I can go check on them, m’yo Ve’ho,” Chikora said.

“Yes, please do, ko’sh’ii.” The princess came in and out of Vegeta’s view, leaving the chambers. The King’s large hand rested on Vegeta’s shoulder. “Mah’ni, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” _I’m sorry, Prince Vegeta._ He squeezed hard. “Take whatever time you need.” Then the hand slipped away. King Sadala came and went out of his view, his closing of the door echoing in the silence of the chambers.

Vegeta stayed in place. Stared ahead at the doors. The floor and the walls. The sunlight behind him casted a long black shadow over it all. He looked powerful and poised and controlled, like a prince of his people should be.

He tilted his head down to look at his gloved hands.

How easy it was to switch into God form. How simple. He harnessed the power of literal gods now, surpassing his wildest expectations for himself—and none of it was enough to stop this, to help.

His hands shook.

_My fault._

His vision blurred.

_It’s my fault._

Slowly his hands turned into those tight fists again.

“Ve’ho’ti Vegeta,” Kohltavi said.

He raised his head back up, turning fully around to face Kohltavi behind him. She still stood in the same place as before, one hand resting on the top of Goku’s head, her face as impassive as ever.

“You were meant to come to me today for answers,” she continued. “Is that what you still seek from me?”

“H’na.” _No._

She smiled. “Even outside of my temple, you know better than to lie to me.” Her hand left Goku’s hair to beckon Vegeta over to her side with a wave of her hand. “Rada es.” _Come here._

He crossed over to the room to stand by her. She gestured to his gloved hands and grabbed them in her own when he lifted them up, the palms facing the ceiling. Her eyes closed tight and a yellow light emerged from her fingertips, soaking his hands up to the wrist. Soon a warm ball of light formed in his palms, a light that turned from bright yellow to a soft white light. But the more he looked at it, the more it wasn’t just one color. A mix of shades emerged in his palms, various shades of white and grey and black, colors that reminded Vegeta of a desolate full moon in a night sky. 

Kohltavi’s hands slid away, back to her sides. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a step back. “Place that over his forehead.”

Vegeta nodded. He stepped forward to Goku on the bed, taking in his pale face, hearing his soft breathing. He leaned over and rested the swirling ball of twinkling, greyscaled light on his clammy forehead. In an instant, the light dropped down and spread out across Goku’s sleeping face like a ripple in a pond, flashes of grey and white and sparkling black rolling over to his head and down his torso, until it disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

His breath stopped when, for the first time in what felt like too long, Goku stirred in his sleep. He turned his head to the side, still dead out, but he was moving. He was conscious in his unconsciousness.

He let his gloved hand rest on that forehead, the heat of Goku’s skin, the sound of his tempered breath.

Beside him, Kohltavi said, “That was a part of your own _umoya_ , ve’ho’ti. It’s uncommon to find such _umoya’ir_ so entwined who are not _mah’kha’or_ , but for Kakarot’s sake, it’s a blessing from Soli herself. You harness the healing power he needed to end his _dra’zela_ and ensure he awakens as he was before.”

Vegeta rubbed his thumb once, twice, over the line of Goku’s scalp. He pulled his hand away, watching how Goku moved again, his arms leaving the sheets to drape over his head, followed by a loud snore that sounded so good to hear again—and he frowned at the relief he felt because of it.

“I still have questions I need answered,” he said.

“On _umoya_.”

“Aiii.” _Yes._

“Rarely do I ever allow a Saiyan to ask a favor of me twice. Not even the royal family are allowed this luxury.” She left his side to walk around the bed, coming into his vision. Vegeta lifted his head to look at her and caught Kohltavi staring right at him—almost right through him, even—and it unnerved him for a moment. Then, she smirked. “But you two fascinate me.” Kohltavi turned away, her jewelry twinkling as she walked to the door. “Be there for him when he awakens. Then you may come to me. The stone around your neck will guide you to my temple, ve’ho’ti _._ ”

She didn’t wait for his reply. Vegeta stared at the door for a moment before looking back down at Goku. The snores intensified, his twitching too. He looked better. Almost back to normal.

Vegeta walked to the corner of the room and pulled out the wooden chair there, along with a book on Sadalan history he found in the bookcase next to it. He placed it next to Goku’s side of the bed without much effort, sat down cross-legged and opened the pages, waiting.

***

Four hours was all it took for Goku to wake up again. Vegeta heard his yawn before Goku opened his eyes and he threw the book down to the floor to watch him stir. The man looked good—looked right. He stretched his arms overhead, he stretched his legs in front of him, he scratched his hair, his armpits, his torso, and for the first time since they came to this planet, Vegeta saw that grin, that damn silly stupid clownish grin, and knew full well it was genuine.

“Wow, what a nap!” Goku sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He stretched his arms up over his head again, yawning once more. “Oh man, what time is it?”

“The afternoon.”

“Jeez! You coulda woken me up earlier y’know? I’m starving!”

“I’m sure you are.”

“What’re you doing here anyway? Last thing I…” His voice petered off. Eyes widened, alight in remembrance and recognition. Then the smile died off. Goku’s whole face fell. His gaze went down to the floor, and Vegeta abhorred the way his whole body hunched over into a small c. “Oh.” He absentmindedly rubbed one of his arms, right over a plethora of bruises littering the bicep there, his eyes glazing over, and a panic rose in Vegeta at the sight.

With a snap of his hands, Vegeta shut the book close, the sound startling Goku out of whatever place his mind took him too. Goku looked up at him, puzzled, confused, and Vegeta stared back, resting that book on the nightstand beside him.

“Tell me about last night,” he said. Goku opened his mouth and Vegeta snapped, “And don’t you dare say ‘it’s fine.’ You burned your ki, Kakarot. You gave yourself second and third degree burns. You could’ve died if Kohltavi hadn’t healed you. So no, I’m not going to allow you to push me away again. You’re going to sit there and you’re going to talk to me.”

Slowly, Goku closed his mouth, his lips a thin line, an almost frown. He looked away as he rubbed his arm up and down, his breathing tempered and heavy.

Vegeta crossed his arms, waiting.

A gust of wind rattled the curtains. The sound of people outside filtered into the room.

Then, Goku sighed, closing his eyes. “I got my memories back,” he said. “All of them. They… weren’t that great.” He rubbed both of his arms now, a small quiver running through his body. “I saw my mother and father. They put me into a pod and sent me to Earth, with the intention of finding me.”

“You mean you weren’t sent there to destroy it?”

Goku shook his head no. He stopped his hands, only to wrap them around his arms again, over the same bruises. “They must’ve known somehow. My mom said something about finding me if my dad was wrong about something, so they must’ve known what was coming.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. “And told Raditz otherwise, so no one was suspicious of a battle pod going out in the middle of a mass recall to the planet. Probably to cover their tracks since scouters could pick up on everything then.” He chuckled, his lips curling up. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

Goku shrugged. “I guess.”

“Kakarot.” He leaned forward on the chair towards him. “They took a major risk, all so they could protect you. Frieza would’ve done away with you and them and possibly Raditz too if anyone got wind of what they planned on doing. I remember the last order he sent out that day: no battle pods were authorized to leave the planet unless pre-approved by Frieza himself. Your parents must’ve gotten a pre-approved battle pod, probably even stole it. Then they lied to their other son so no one would know the truth, just in case their hunch was wrong, and they could come get you. It was a ballsy plan and they pulled it off, because here you are, alive, one of the strongest Saiyans that ever existed, and it was thanks to them. They saved you.”

Goku frowned sideways. His arms collapsed into his lap. “And I forgot them.”

“Through no fault of your own.”

“Killed my own brother too.”

“Raditz was a lost cause from the beginning. He was always overzealous and impulsive and was bound to get himself killed sooner or later.” Vegeta sighed. “But his ruthlessness was my own doing. Living with myself and Nappa was not easy. We regularly belittled him and treated him like trash. He grew a chip on his shoulder that manifested into the man you met back then.”

“Doesn’t excuse what I’ve done, though.”

“It doesn’t give you an excuse to beat yourself up either.”

Goku growled, “I’m _not_.”

“You burned your ki.”

“That’s different.”

“How? How is burning your ki different to what you’re putting yourself through right now?”

“Because I deserve this, okay!” Goku jerked his whole body away from Vegeta, running a hand over his hair, only to pull on it hard. He shook his head, staring at the bedsheets. “The ki thing was an accident, but this? I deserve this, I deserve feeling this pain, because I forgot them, Vegeta. I failed them. It was the last thing my mother wanted from me, and I failed her.” 

“You remember them now though. You have your memories back. You can honor your mother’s wish.”

Goku sighed. “You don’t get it.” The hand in his hair flopped down to the bed. He stared out ahead into the room. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose memories you never cared about in the first place, only to get them and realize not only did you have parents, but that they actually cared about me so much that they sent me to Earth on purpose.”

“Kakarot—”

“I never cared about my parents before. I never had a thought about them. The only time I did was when Chichi was pregnant with Gohan and she was talking about how she wished her mom could be around to see her grandson. I kinda thought then, ‘huh, do I have a mom? Probably. Probably have a dad too.’ And that was it. To me, Grandpa Gohan was my only parent. Whoever my parents were, they abandoned me. They chose to leave me, and he chose to take me in.

“Even when I found out I was an alien, I _still_ didn’t care about knowing who my parents were. That was the past. I don’t care about the past anyway. I only care about what’s happening now. But then I come here, I meet other Saiyans, it’s a high holy week of remembrance for Soli, the whole mates thing— _dammit,_ part of me feels like I was pushed into remembering them, y’know? How could I not? You were talking about your parents, Chikora told me this week was about memories and remembering, we talked about Grandpa Gohan and she said I should remember my parents too, and then I went to Lady Kohltavi—I just don’t _know_.

“How can I care about people I never met—that I never cared about in the first place? How can I think about them? How can the memory of them affect me _this_ badly? I could’ve gone my whole life coming up with whatever story I wanted to tell myself about them. They’re nameless, faceless, voiceless people in my life, who had me and then I thought abandoned me. But they didn’t. I could’ve gone my whole life never knowing, but I let myself get all wrapped up in this. I let Lady Kohltavi tap my memories. Some of it I don’t regret because I love understanding everyone now, and I like knowing more about where we came from. But I think…” He sighed again, turning his face away from Vegeta, the volume of his voice low. “I think I would’ve been better off not knowing anything about my parents. Then you wouldn’t be so concerned about me. You could go be with your people and not be worried about—” His hands flew up, two fingers ‘air quoting’, “’stupid Kakarot.’”

Vegeta watched Goku’s hands smack down back onto the bed. Watched how they slid back to Goku’s lap, how Goku turned fully away from him, gathering more of the sheets around his body. He stared at the pale skin of his back and his arms, the back of his head, his black hair, and held back the urge to smack him upside that head.

Instead, he looked down to the floor, right at his gloved hands. He rested his elbows on top of his thighs, his voice low and throaty. 

“My parents were gigantic assholes,” he said. “My father, King Vegeta, was a ruthless, cold-hearted bastard to everyone. He wasn’t the strongest on the planet, but he was a cunning strategist politically and a shrewd tactician on the battlefield. He commanded everyone’s respect and ruled with an iron hand. But my father was fair. He believed in pride and honor, putting the strength of mind and character over the strength inside oneself. It was only when King Cold came that my father changed that mentality. At least, that’s what my mother told me.

“Queen Cassava was as ruthless and coldhearted as my father was, if not more. When my father would waiver on decisions, she was the one who forced his hand. Whatever my father decreed, my mother enforced them herself, in court and at home. He would consult her many times on topics he had little to no idea of, as she was much more well-read than he was. But she consulted him on matters of politics, diplomacy and the court, his area of expertise. Her passions rested in mathematics, science and history. She hated what my father was turning into under King Cold, a desperate man in search of power to defeat his enemies, but there was nothing she could do. She knew our power paled in comparison to them and supported his decisions, as crazed as they were.

“They disciplined me the same way, though my father cared more about precision, while my mother emphasized more on intelligence. I sparred with them, fought with them, drove them crazy with my antics. They pushed me, punished me, sparred with me to the point where I thought I would die. They never let up. Every day was a battle. But for every moment they annoyed me or hurt me or punished me, they praised me. They never belittled me. They never said I wasn’t worthless or spineless or anything of the like. They were the ones who instilled pride into me—pride in myself, in my people. I learned early on, if I received their praise, that meant I truly earned it, and I was to take pride in it. I don’t think I would be who I am if it wasn’t for their teachings early on in life. Frieza and the PTO tried their best to take that away from me, and they couldn’t do it, because my parents made damn sure I’d never forget.” Vegeta smirked. “Funny how I can say this now and not feel weak for it.”

“You’ve grown,” Goku said.

“Hn.”

“Did you love them?”

Vegeta looked up. He found Goku peeking over his shoulder at him, his bare back still turned to him. Almost shy. Almost afraid. Almost, because he knew the look of curiosity when he saw it.

“You called them assholes before,” Goku said. “But you still loved them, right?”

“They would’ve slapped me stupid for entertaining the thought,” Vegeta replied, and he chuckled, leaning back into the wooden chair. “But I did. I loved my parents. They pushed me every day of my young life and drove me nuts, but I loved them, and I miss them.” His chuckles petered off as he stared at Goku, watching, gaging his reactions with his next words. “And your parents loved _you_ , Kakarot.” Pain in those eyes. “They loved you so much, they put together a crazy plan that had every chance of failing and risked it, so they could give you a chance at life.” Pain and guilt. “It’s okay you forgot them. It’s okay you only remembered now. Because you’re at least doing it _now_. You have a chance to know them.”

Goku turned back away from him. “They probably don’t exist in Other World anymore.”

“No. They wouldn’t.” He shrugged. “But there’s bound to be some information King Yemma has.”

Goku’s head shot up. “That’s right!” His hands flew to his head. “Oh man, I gotta contact him ASAP. Maybe he knows more about what happened and who they were—” He snapped his fingers, turning back around to look at Vegeta, the sheets twisting out of the way, a big smile on his face. “And their names! I gotta know their names!”

“Gine and Bardock.”

Goku’s mouth flew open. “You knew?”

“Raditz wouldn’t shut up about them.”

That guilt again. “Pretty sure my brother’s gone from Other World too.”

“Spare no thought nor time to regrets. You’ll waste yourself dwelling in them.” He stood up from the chair, closing the little gap between himself and Goku on the bed. “Remember what Chikora said. This is a time for remembrance.” He rested a gloved hand onto Goku’s bare shoulder, leaning in closer to him. “Be grateful for this opportunity, Kakarot. Honor them all by thinking of them this week.” He squeezed the shoulder hard. “Somehow, some way, they will know you remembered them.”

He barely had a moment to catch whatever emotion crossed Goku’s face before Goku looked off and away, back to the floor again. Vegeta gave his shoulder one more squeeze before letting it go and stepping back from the bed, giving the man space.

With the book and the wooden chair in both of his hands, Vegeta crossed over to the other side of the room, putting them back in place. From behind, he heard Goku’s weak voice say, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Once done, Vegeta turned around, not bothering to look towards the bed. “You owe me a good spar later.”

A small chuckle. The sound felt normal and needed and right. “Count on it,” Goku said.

“I’ll have some servants bring you some food. Rest today.”

“Yeah. I think I will. For some reason, I feel exhausted. Like I just did the Tournament of Power all over again.” He almost touched the door handle when Goku’s next words froze him in place. “But I also feel weirdly good too? Like something’s… hugging me? Or like I have a big warm blanket around me? I don’t know.” That same chuckle, but it didn’t reassure Vegeta in any way. “But hey, I’ll take it!”

“Hn.” He opened the door. “Sleep well, Kakarot.”

From behind the wood, Vegeta heard Goku’s muffled goodbye. He resisted the urge to check up on him again, to ensure that the man was actually awake, that he was actually okay, that there were zero effects truly from _dra’zela_ and that whatever Kohltavi made him do actually worked. Instead, he walked down the hall and forced himself to believe all was well, for now.

***

Vegeta left for the temple mere minutes after leaving Goku. While a good part of him knew that the King wouldn’t mind him missing a celebration that evening, he didn’t want to. Each night so far brought up a new memory or a new piece of information or a new part of his race’s history he had forgotten. With sunset only an hour away, Vegeta knew he could venture to Kohltavi’s, get the answers he needed and return back to the palace with ample time to spare.

The stone around Vegeta’s neck hand grew brighter the closer he arrived to the center of the planet. The waning sunlight casted a reddish hue to the purple light, reminding him of an Oozaru’s eye in the midst of battle. It flickered brighter, almost as bright as the sun itself, and Vegeta had to hold a hand over it at times in order to see better.

Because of how closely he paid attention to the light from the stone, Vegeta knew when he had arrived. The light shut down as he passed over a tall mountain. He glanced down and found a peek of marble from behind a thicket of trees, centered right in the middle of the mountain range. The building came more into view as he descended, landing at the marble steps and its marble pillars. The foliage he saw between each pillar—the walls of vines, flowers and herbs, held together by wood and mesh—all took on a reddish hue, almost as red as his cape.

The flat, fat slab of marble on top. The sheer size, towering over him. The rows and rows of flora, of sacred flowers and herbs and plants to the planet. All like the old temples on Vegeta. All like the one his father visited only once, with him and his mother in tow, to make a prayer to the goddess Soli. For what, Vegeta didn’t remember, the possibility high that his father nor his mother didn’t even tell him what for anyway. But it happened the day before he left the planet to go work for Frieza. When the high priestess there finished her work, his father looked grim, his mother looked concerned, and he felt confused by it all, because never did his parents look like that. Only later did he understand. Only later did he figure out what they probably prayed for. 

He stared ahead at what he assumed was the middle of the building, his gloved hands resting by his sides. The memory of his father’s words came to him, filtering out through his own mouth to the world around him.

“M’eh ku’pham ni inyo’khu cha’ir Soli ni Tor.” _I fall before the feet of the great goddesses Soli and Tor._ “Isik’ho yi Saiyan nu’or ukuwene.” _Guide this Saiyan to the path he truly seeks._

Like then, the vines and the flowers and the plants slithered away from the center of the building, revealing a large golden double door. He waited for them to open, for permission, and it came with a loud creak, the two doors opening on their own before they stopped against the marble exterior and the vines there.

From the shadows of the temple’s interior came Lady Kohltavi, dressed as she was the night before in her purple harem pants and top. But now a long purple silk robe hung from her arms, the sleeves hiding her wrinkled hands, the ends dragging around her and on the ground.

“T’au’he kufu’ni inqua’o ez’cha’ir, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” _You have invoked the vessel of these goddesses, Prince Vegeta_. She turned around, motioning him to follow. “Rada nge m’yo.” _Come with me._

Once inside, he found the exact same interior as the temple on Planet Vegeta. Marble walls lit by torches, stone floors decorated with gold and silver. Candles upon candles resting on window sills, on tables, at mantles and shelvs planted in different sections of the vast temple. Various herbs littered around, thousands of potted plants, and a large golden altar sat in the middle of the room where a stream of sunlight from a hole in the ceiling above it caused it to glitter a little.

It was at that altar that Kohltavi stood, her hands holding a white, translucent stone that hung around her neck. She gestured him over, and Vegeta made his way there, the clicks of his heels echoing in the silence. At the base of the altar, like his father before him, Vegeta fell to one knee, bowing his head in her direction. The stone around his neck pulsed a soft light. A gentle heat came off it too, warming his jaw and his neck.

In his purview, he watched Kohltavi’s feet come closer. “What do you seek, ve’ho’ti Vegeta?”

“I have been told my _umoya_ is tainted. I seek to fix this.”

Rustling of clothes. The sound of a bowl landing on marble. “I sense Metamoran magic on you and he, as well as Yardratian. How many fusions have you done with him?”

“Three.”

“The earrings and the dance, I assume.”

“Yes.”

More rustling. The edges of her robe swept across the floor as she moved above him. “I also sense energy shared between you two, more than once.”

“At the Tournament of Power, I gave him the last of my energy to continue fighting. I’ve also given him energy recently.”

“And taken it away. You used Yardratian magic recently as well.”

“Yes.” He swallowed against his dry throat, the haunting image of Goku on his knees, engulfed in a burning white light, his ki swallowing him whole—almost destroying him—crossing his mind. He willed it back to the recesses of his mind. “To stop him.”

Her feet left his purview. More rustling. More things landed on the altar in front of him. Then: “Rise, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

When he came to his feet, he found Kohltavi on the other side of the altar. On top of the gold slab between them sat two brown bowls full of sparkling liquid: one bright orange, like the sun itself, and one dark purple, like a murky nightfall. Beside each bowl rested a stone that matched in color, glittering in the last of the sunlight from the hole above.

She gestured to the bowl on the left. “This is the answer you seek. Drink this and all will be righted. A gift from Soli herself.” She then gestured to the bowl on the right. “This, however, is what you truly need.”

He stepped closer, looking down at the purple liquid. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

“Gift?”

“You came here with no lies in your heart nor your words. You truly seek to fix your twined _umoya’ir_.” She rested her hands between each bowl and stone. “But you are no child of Soli, ve’ho’ti Vegeta. Tor rules you, as she has for many descendants of the Vegeta lineage, while Soli rules the family of Sadala.” She gestured to the bowl on the left again. “So while this will solve your problem because it is in Soli’s power to do so—” Then gestured to the right once more. “Tor is your true help.”

He frowned. “But I read in the book Chikora gave me that Tor has no rule over _umoya_.” Vegeta glanced up at Kohltavi again. “Only Soli.”

“Aiii, true. Soli is the goddess we pray to during mating ceremonies, the goddess young Saiyans learn of in their first _umoya_ classes, the goddess I invoke the most with my own magic.” She chuckled. “But your ancestors cared not for her magic, nor her approach in battle. Unlike her sister, Soli shows more mercy. Tor believed in brute strength, intelligence and ruthlessness. Mercy, to her, was a weakness.”

He crossed his arms. “So why offer me this?” He gestured to the purple liquid. “It isn’t what I seek.”

“No, it isn’t.” She touched the stone beside the bowl. “But it will answer what I cannot.” A gentle light sparkled under her hand. “If you two truly are _mah’kha’or._ ”

His chest tightened at her words, as his insides twisted up. On the outside, he grunted, “We aren’t.”

“You don’t know that for certain, ve’ho’ti.”

“I—” He stopped himself short, shutting his mouth to take a long inhale through his nose. On the exhale, Vegeta said, “Fine. I don’t.”

Kohltavi smirked for a brief moment before it melted away into a thin frown. “When two Saiyans share energy, they share _umoya_ too. This leads to heightened feelings and emotions between either party and can present a false _mah’kha._ I have seen friends protect and care for the other by discoloring another person’s _umoya_ , like the claim marks of old Saiyans, before they started learning magic, but this—whatever this is between you two—it is different, and it’s because of these fusions. One fusion was damage enough, but three of them? With one from the Metamorans, which requires the ability to manipulate ki and sync ki perfectly? It’s why I cannot tell if you two are _mah’kha’or_ or not. Your willing energy transferences and removals to Kakarot only added to the problem you seek fixed. But fortune finds you, ve’ho’ti. You come at the right time, during Soli’s holy week, when my powers are strongest.” She gestured again to the glittering orange liquid on the left. “Even if you two are real _mah’kha’or_ , this liquid will break whatever potential _r’bhon’or_ between you two, cleansing your _umoya’ir_ and bringing you each back to normal. This is what you seek.” Her piercing, old black eyes stared right through Vegeta, and he knew she penetrated whatever shield he had. “But is this what you truly _need?_ ”

He wanted to nod his yes. Wanted to say yes. The word registered in his mind, but when Vegeta went to open his mouth, it didn’t come out. Instead, he heard himself say the truth: “No.”

Another smirk. Kohltavi moved more to the right of the altar. Both of her wrinkled hands framed the bowl and the stone, the purple liquid shining. “Tor isn’t only a warrior goddess of the moon. She is a goddess of justice, of truth, the law and the mind. She guides Saiyans unsure of their place in this world, offering Saiyans options when they believe there are none. She lives in the future of what could be, an endless dreamer who acts upon what she imagines.” She cupped her hands around the bowl, the purple liquid swishing inside. “With this, you will know what you need.”

Slowly, Vegeta lifted his hands. He noticed they had a small tremor as he reached forward and he couldn’t control himself, couldn’t stop them from moving.

He paused his movements when he was an inch away from her fingertips. “And if I decide I want the other liquid?”

“Then you can.”

His hands molded around the bowl. “Tor vuma uthi’ho.” _Tor be praised._

Kohltavi’s slipped away as he brought it to his lips, closing his eyes. The liquid tasted like cool, refreshing water with no discernable taste to it. A strong smell of herbs hit his nose as he felt the liquid roll down his throat, warming his stomach and his chest. He drank it all, leaving no drop behind.

In the darkness of his lids, he saw Goku’s dumb wide smile, his angry snarl, his deep frown. Heard his laughter, his animalistic growl, his soft cries. Smelled the linen of his clothes, the salt of his tears. Felt his hand in his own and the memory of squeezing it, holding it, watching over him as he dreamt dreamless in bed.

Then it all went dark.

The bowl tipped out of his hands. It landed on the ground with a loud _clang_ , next to the altar. Vegeta’s body followed right after, collapsing to his side.

Kohltavi knelt beside him on the ground and waited.

***

Floating. Vegeta floated in endless darkness. He tried finding his limbs, his own sense of self, and saw nothing but blackness around him. He quelled down the urge to fight, and the vague sense of fear bubbling up inside, instead tempering his breath and calming himself with each inhale and exhale.

It was the only sound, his breathing. No one around him. No way to see. But even though he had no idea where he was, and no control over what he could do about his situation, he felt strangely calm, as if the darkness not only welcomed him, but kept him safe.

Even now, whatever he drank earlier kept him warm inside. If the dark was cold, Vegeta couldn’t tell. He still smelled herbs, could even taste a little of the liquid lingering in his mouth. But that was it. He floated on, focusing on his breath, waiting for something, anything to happen. To see something, or hear something.

Then he heard it.

_Vegeta…_

Her voice.

_Come on, Vegeta._

His lips formed her name, but no sound came out. ‘Bulma.’

Her laugh. Her hands on his shoulders, his back. _Come on, you lazy sack of bones. Get up already!_

Silver light burst throughout the darkness like a supernova. Vegeta rose his arms and groaned in pain, squinting his vision. His eyelids fluttered, blinking away the sudden, blinding light.

A murky image of Bulma waited for him in the darkness. It floated like he did, the edges of the image melting and swirling in place. That image moved—she moved, she was there, she was actually _there_ —and he saw her hands land on tan skin. The image shook as she shook, a small laugh escaping out from her pink lips.

“Come on, Vegeta, you gotta go see Goku!” The warmth Vegeta felt disappeared when she said, “It’s your anniversary!”

The image melted away.

Another popped up, showing himself in front of a mirror now. His bathroom. Dressed up from head to toe in a full black suit. Bulma stood behind him in the doorway, leaning against it, a big grin on her face.

More images appeared. Images of him kissing Bulma. Of Bulma kissing him back. Images of him playing with his son Trunks. Images of him at a tea party with his princess Bulla. Images of laying in bed with Bulma, holding Bulma, making love to Bulma, calling her a word he didn’t know, but he repeated it again and again, and she repeated it back to him, even _thanking_ him for it.

 _Urave_. Only royalty.

He called her that again in another image where they kissed yet again, and she pushed him out the door, waving him off. “Knock his socks off!” she cried, and he shook his head no as the image faded away.

The next one took his breath away.

Goku, dressed in black slacks and a button down light blue shirt, standing under the moonlight. Standing across from him somewhere, the stars and the night sky framing his body, his face.

He looked shy. Downright bashful. Goku looked not at Vegeta but somewhere around his shoes. Vegeta heard his own voice say something, and the blush on Goku’s cheeks deepened, that hand coming up to scratch the back of his head.

More images appeared. Images of Goku sitting across from him, eating as voraciously as only he could. Goku laughing at something far ahead. Goku pointing to something in a book—something obviously Sadalan—his eyes childishly wide, asking question after question. Goku sparring him in a field in the middle of the day, fresh blood running down the cut of his bottom lip. Goku standing in front of a stove, stirring a pot of food that smelled delicious. Goku staring out at the night sky, the morning sky, the sunset and the sunrise, with the wind pushing his hair just right, and the images overwhelmed Vegeta, hurt Vegeta, hit him somewhere he didn’t know, didn’t want to acknowledge, didn’t want to believe—

Silver light erupted.

Vegeta yelled as it engulfed the entire darkness around him. The stone around his neck emitted a strong, searing heat against his breast plate. He shielded his eyes, hissing in pain and frustration.

He no longer floated but tumbled, falling out of control in the silver light, a light that burned, that ached, an abyss of silver that shoved Vegeta down, down, down and he had no control over any of it. He had no control, period. His brain screamed at him to stop this, all of this, but there was nothing he could do but endure it.

Things turned, tilted and warped, his body in constant free fall. Pain filtered through all of his senses as the heat intensified and the light never stopped. But it never stopped. It had no end. Vegeta couldn’t even open his eyes to find anything in this light. All he could do was shield his vision and hope this ended soon.

Then, gentle hands touched his.

Vegeta slowly peeked his eyes open.

A short gasp ripped out of him when he saw Goku before him, dressed in Sadalan armor, that same armor he caught him wearing the night of the _echu batwa_. His body glowed all over in a warm, soothing golden light, as if he was Super Saiyan, but he wasn’t. He was at his base form, his normal self, and he looked so different than before. He looked well rested, cared for. Happy.

Goku rose their hands up, palm against palm. Vegeta noticed a greyish glow around them, and he glanced down and around himself. That greyish glow was all over his own body too. He caught his stone pulsing a light purple glow, no longer radiating searing heat but a gentle warmth.

The darkness surrounded them again. Together, they floated in it, in front of each other. He looked back at Goku, at his smiling face, the golden glow around his body, and it hit Vegeta in that moment what this was—what he was seeing.

_Umoya’ir._

Pressure on his hands. Goku squeezed them. Goku looked at him. Goku smiled at him, held his hands, glowed like the sun, he always glowed like the sun, of course his _umoya_ matched him perfectly—and Vegeta found himself squeezing back in return.

He watched Goku fall to one knee before him without looking away, watched him bring their clasped hands to his lips, kissing the skin there.

The world lit up in thousands upon thousands of images of them, together. Of what was—fighting each other, fighting Cell, fighting Buu, fighting in the Tournament of Power, fighting Moro—and the thousands upon thousands of what could’ve been.

Images of Goku and himself laughing together, walking together, talking to each other. Images of them sharing meals, cooking, hunting, feeding each other. Images of them flying together, fishing together, meditating outside together. Images of them playing with their children, disciplining them together—and then images of Bulma _and_ Goku reminiscing together, laughing together, talking to each other—talking about himself, with a fondness that turned his cheeks pink.

Soon there was no more darkness. Only the images overlapping each other, one after the other. Images that became intimate, loving. Images of them holding each other in bed, naked. Images of Vegeta above Goku, stroking his flushed skin, kissing his neck, his torso, his stomach. Images of Goku, his head thrown back, whimpering Vegeta’s name, whispering Sadalan words with impeccable accuracy. Images of them, together, in ways he never thought possible, that he never thought would ever happen, and yet, there they were, around them, around himself.

They faded away, one after another, until the blackness returned and only he and Goku were left. He stared down at the man still on his knees, still holding his lips to their clasped hands, and Vegeta couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. Because he saw it now, saw what Cabba did, what the King and Chikora and Kohltavi and everyone else did.

A perfect swirl of colors surrounded both he and Goku now. A perfect, immaculate pairing of gold, silver and every shade between them. As if it was always like this. As if it was meant to be.

_R’bhon’or._

Vegeta’s vision blurred.

Goku pulled his lips away. His hands released Vegeta’s, where they flopped back to Vegeta’s side.

Without pause, Goku created a fist and rested it over his left breastplate. “M’yo ve’ho’ti,” he said, perfectly, and Vegeta felt the world tilt when he heard Goku say with passion, “M’yo r’sha.”

He shook his head no. Those words. That phrase. The things Goku said— _my prince, my beloved_ —this wasn’t real. None of this was real. This didn’t mean anything. This wasn’t—

Goku tilted his head up.

Vegeta fell to his knees.

Adoration. Complete adoration stared right at him. Endless amounts of understanding and forgiveness. These eyes, this person—they knew him. They knew him so well that the walls Vegeta erected his entire life crumbled and he felt his soul not on trial but saved, all in that gaze from the man beneath him.

A fairytale on Planet Vegeta. That’s all mates were. A very few existed from the old ways, but he never met them, barely remembered or registered them on the planet. His parents, his mother, his father, they said it was child’s play, a fiction, stupid magic and old mating bites and none of that mattered on Planet Vegeta, mates were a liability anyway. 

And yet…

Vegeta reached his hands forward. They cupped Goku’s soft cheeks, bringing him closer.

And yet…

He ran his thumbs over each cheek bone, one by one.

Goku simply smiled. He leaned into his damned hand, his eyes fluttering shut.

Vegeta’s breath quickened.

One phrase repeated in his head, again and again, as he stared at Goku. _M’yo mah’kha._ My mate. Again, and again, and again. _M’yo mah’kha. M’yo mah’kha._ It grew louder and stronger the more he looked at Goku, the more he noticed their twined _umoya’ir_ , the more he felt his breath, heard his breath, smelled his smell, felt his skin, felt _him_ —

He yanked Goku to him, pulled him in, covered his mouth with his own. His hands buried into Goku’s wild hair, his back, and the burn of tears streaking down Vegeta’s cheeks didn’t bother him whatsoever. It felt good, felt right, felt like this was what he needed, what he was searching for—what he didn’t even _know_ he _needed_ to search for—and Goku felt so good, felt warm and soft and right, just right.

Everything felt, for the first time in his life, right.

Goku returned that kiss, sliding his arms around Vegeta’s torso, tilting his head to the other side. Tongues met and electricity shot down Vegeta’s spine, forcing a gasp out of him that Goku ate up with another flick of his tongue.

The blackness around them didn’t matter. Whatever happened before didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this. Two soft moans bled out between them, out to the void, to the darkness, and Vegeta didn’t want to stop, didn’t care that there was barely any air in his lungs. He pulled Goku even closer, losing himself to this kiss, to him, to the _r’bhon’or_ , to the _mah’kha’or_ , because it was what he needed, what he truly needed, and it felt _so good_ —

Silver light shattered the darkness.

Vegeta felt Goku melt away in his arms.

Panic rose in him, his mind screamed at him _find him get him back get your mate back_ , his body lurched down, down into the abyss, the burn returned, the light, the twisting, the pulling—

He gasped, shooting himself upright.

Gentle hands. Different hands. Steadying him, on his back, between his shoulder blades. Holding him upright.

Heavy, labored breathing. His own labored, wet breathing.

The temple returned to his vision. Whatever happened before, wherever he was, ended. He was back, back on Sadala, but his mind didn’t listen. It kept screaming at him _find him get your mate get him_ and he shook all over as a deep, seething pain gutted his lungs and his chest, shooting right up to his heart, because his mind was right and wrong, he knew it was right and wrong, because it wasn’t real, but it was real, and it wasn’t true, but it was true, and that did happen, but it didn’t, but—

His trembling fingers touched his lips.

He could still feel it. Feel him.

A rush of warmth took over the pain he felt inside as he relived it all again in a blur. The colors between them. The perfect unison. The images he saw—of Bulma, the word ‘urave,’ of Bulma and Goku seemingly knowing and seemingly fine and okay with this, with everything, of Goku and those moments, those what-coulds, those words, and that deep feeling inside, that deep seated feeling that Vegeta knew he couldn’t lie to himself about, that he couldn’t escape.

That feeling he still felt now, as visceral and as real as the touch of Goku’s lips to his own, when he kissed him. The feeling of peace, of security, and of love. The feeling of completion, of wanting and getting, of needing and receiving, of complete adoration and utter understanding.

The world blurred in his vision.

_M’yo mah’kha._

Burning wetness escaped down his cheeks.

_My mate._

A burning wetness that felt right.

 _He_ is _my mate_.

Beside him, Kohltavi said, “Pray to Tor, ve’ho’ti.” She gestured up above and he followed her line of sight, where a large hole that didn’t exist before now rested above the two of them. He saw the purple and orange sky above, the beginning of stars peeking through, and a peek of the moon from behind lingering clouds. “Pray to your goddess and thank her for the gift she bestowed upon you this day.”

He felt her form leave his, felt her hands leave his back, heard her footsteps echo away. Whether or not Kohltavi was still there, he didn’t care. Vegeta stared above, his vision still blurred, but he could see the stars, the beginning of the inky blackness and the moon making its presence known, and he gathered himself to his knees and let the words spill out of him like wave.

Nothing he said sounded remotely familiar. It sounded guttural, ancient, lyrical in a way, like a song as he shouted to the heavens above. The words droned out of him, inflection rising and falling, old words he must’ve learned as a child or heard his parents say once before. Maybe even at the temple they visited once, he couldn’t recall, and it truly didn’t matter. He called upon Tor, thanked her for her help, showered her in praise and gratitude that he never said, not even to his own family. But every word rang true, every phrase, every cry to the sky above. Vegeta meant it all, and he knew it was being heard.

When his voice turned hoarse and he could feel no more words inside his body nor his mind, Vegeta collapsed to his side and passed out from exhaustion and exertion.

Out of the darkness, Kohltavi emerged, kneeling beside Vegeta. She brushed a hand over his hair, a soft smile on her face, her jewelry twinkling in the light above.

“Be at peace, ve’ho’ti,” she said. “You finally win it all.”

She rested one hand to his shoulder, the other pressing two fingers to her forehead. A few seconds later, they blinked out of existence from inside the temple.


	6. Chapter 6

Goku awoke to the sound of horns and people’s cheers. He yawned, stretching his arms up over his head. Sunlight from the window warmed his skin, filling up the entire room. He followed the sound to the window, where he found Saiyans dancing in the streets outside the palace walls. Some stood in a circle, holding golden instruments that reminded him of tubas and trumpets. Others danced around like Vegeta did that one night in front of the royal court. The rest clapped along to the beat, cheering and chanting in Sadalan to the music. He picked up the lyrics as he listened in—Soli and Tor, celebration of new beginnings and old ancestors, hopes and dreams and what was then and what could be. He indulged in the sight for a few more minutes until his stomach growled at him to move. Goku laughed to himself, patting his bare belly.

The hot water felt good on his skin. He almost felt like humming to the tune outside the window as he put on his orange gi. Well rested, famished, not haunted by dreams nor memories, ready to take on the day—Goku hadn’t felt like this in what felt like forever. Definitely hadn’t felt like this since he first arrived to the planet. It was wonderful to not go anywhere, do anything or be with anyone the night before. Instead, he slept, clearly for hours as it was a bright, cloudless day outside, and no one bugged him. No one checked up on him, and if they did, they were very quiet about it.

He bounded out of the room for the royal chambers. There was a guard there of course, who looked at him all wide-eyed and Goku laughed at him, waving him away. He knew where to go by now, and he didn’t want or need the help. It felt good being in control, knowing what to do, knowing where he was, what was being said. The old discomfort was gone. Now he felt ready to take on the world, his blood itching for a spar, and underneath that, the hope of getting a good one out of Vegeta. Goku did owe the man a good fight. He promised Vegeta after all.

Goku pushed open the golden double doors, where he found the familiar sight of the royal family at the lavish large table with the King at the head and Chikora to one side. Beside her, the twins ate their meal, their heads hanging low. But there was an empty seat on the other side of the King, the place Vegeta usually took, and Goku frowned for a brief moment at the sight, then let it go. Vegeta being late was rare but not an anomaly. 

The King stopped mid-sentence with his daughter as he entered, and the palpable confusion and shock on his face caused Goku to frown even deeper. “Dear Soli,” the King said, “you’ve awaken.”

“Uh, yeah?” Goku took a seat across from the twins, next to the empty chair. “Sorry I missed last night’s festivities.”

“You missed nothing important. Tonight matters most.”

“I heard! Everyone’s cheering outside like crazy.”

“As to be expected. It is our high holy day and the last in our celebration week of Soli.”

Goku leaned out of the way as servants brought piles of food before him. “That’s where you celebrate memories and stuff, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Would you like to participate in it?”

“Sure! I dunno if you know this, but I actually got all my memories back.” He allowed a smirk to rise on his face as he looked right at the twins. “ _And_ I understand the language now too.” Their deep blush in response felt justified.

Chikora gasped and clapped her hands together. “Uzko du Soli, that is wonderful to hear!”

Goku looked at her, an awkward chuckle rising out of him. “Well, I can’t actually say anything to anyone.” He scratched the back of his head. “But at least I know what everyone’s saying now!”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I have a rudimentary language book for you to use whenever you wish.”

“That’d be great! Thanks Chikora.”

The King lifted a goblet to the air. “To Goku’s good fortune!”

Chikora rose her own as well. “M’sa’nin!” _Good fortune!_

Goku followed suit, but didn’t try mimicking the word. He lifted the drink to his lips, trailing his attention back to the twins. They, too, had lifted their drinks and sipped from them as well. But as they rested the glasses down, he noticed they didn’t look up. They stared right back down at their meals and… poked at it a little. Kept their heads down, bangs covering their faces. Slouched more into their chairs.

The satisfaction he felt earlier at their embarrassment died in that instant. The twins were, what, ten, maybe twelve years old? He never asked and the King nor Chikora never told. Something had happened since he last saw them, something that caused them to act this way. Maybe they were reprimanded hard by the King finally. Maybe they got a stern lecture, or a harsh and brutal spar from their father, or maybe both. How Saiyans disciplined their children, Goku had no idea. But they were very, very different. Not boisterous. Not talkative whatsoever. Just quiet. A little bit afraid.

His stomach rumbled. The food in front of him looked warm and delicious, but he pushed back the urge to dive in for a moment. Instead, Goku cleared his throat, catching the King and the princess’s attentions, but the twins didn’t move. They continued playing with their food, pushing it around here and there with their utensils.

“Hey, uh, Baternat?” Goku asked. One twin lifted their head. “Courget, right?” Then the other. They stared at him not with the usual contempt or annoyance, but shyness—and blatant fear. “Do you two happen to train together?”

“Sometimes,” Baternat said.

“Not all the time,” Courget said.

“Ah. That’s too bad. Would you two like to, y’know, train together? Work together?”

Then came the glare. Suspicious glare. Unsure. The twins glanced at one another for a moment, before Baternat said, “I guess. Why do you care?”

“Because you two have a lot of potential and that excites me like crazy.” He leaned a bit more forward. “I saw it when I sparred you two individually. Remember the day I came to the sparring grounds and you both were up for the challenge? That was great!” He laughed at the small little ‘o’ both twins sported in response. “Seriously, you each have such unique tactics and skills that I thought, ‘man, if they were double teaming up on me instead of trying to outdo each other, I think they would’ve gotten the best of me!’”

Courget tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yup! You two remind me of my son Goten and Vegeta’s son Trunks.” He winked. “They’re quite the team, if I do say so myself. They do train individually but as a team, they’re unstoppable! If you’re up for it, I’d be happy to teach you two some of what I taught them.”

Both their jaws dropped at the same time. A beat of silence, and their voices overlapped each other, having switched to Sadalan, but Goku understood every word out of their mouths. “Seriously?” “Oh man!” “Really?” “Honestly?” “You’d do that? For us?” “Really, for us?”

He chuckled, nodding his head yes. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? You two even have the potential to become Super Saiyans. I can feel it. I mean, if our sons can be Super Saiyans at their ages, you two can as well.”

More overlapping, excited voices from each twin, all signs of trepidation and shyness erased the more they battled. “Wow!” “Amazing!” “That’s so kind!” “Thank you!” “Thank you Goku!”

Goku glanced at the King at the head of the table—who was staring at him just as wide-eyed and slack-jawed as the princess too—and then back at the twins. “ _And_ if your dad is OK with it, I’d love to teach you two fusion as well. Our sons perform it together and the person they become is pretty powerful.”

As one, the brothers shouted in Sadalan: _“Holy shit!”_

“Children.” The King’s loud voice commanded the entire room, he himself having switched to Sadalan too. The twins and Goku turned to his direction. “You have studies to attend to today.”

“But Dad!” Courget said.

“Goku’s offering to train us!” Baternat said. “Can’t we—”

Courget nearly floated out of his seat. “Please?”

Baternat too. “Please dad? Please?”

The King frowned, pointing his fork at the two of them. “After what you’ve done to Goku? Spreading all those rumors and falsehoods across the palace? Poisoning everyone in ear shot?”

The enthusiasm from both twins petered off, their wide smiles turning into deep frowns, tainted with embarrassment and regret. It reminded Goku of his son Goten, of Vegeta’s son Trunks, fresh from being reprimanded by their respective mothers, and he broke the tension with a small chuckle, getting everyone’s attention back to him.

“Oh it’s okay, King,” Goku said. “They’re just kids.”

The King sighed, shaking his head. He said in Sadalan, “You are too forgiving, brave one.” Then returned his attention back to the twins, resting his fork back on his plate. “Expecting a sincere apology out of either of you is improbable if not impossible. Should I allow you two to attend training with Goku, you must abide by everything he says, and you must study the whole day until evening. Understood?”

Both twins stood from their chairs, bowing deeply to their father. “Yes my King.”

“After breakfast, then. Two hours. No more, no less.”

Again as one, they said, “Your will be done, my King.”

Chikora chuckled, bringing her glass back to her lips. “That’s the best decorum I’ve seen from the twins in forever, father.”

“Indeed.” The King returned his attention to Goku, switching out of Sadalan. “Even I still struggle with forgiveness. My admiration for your heart and your mind knows no bounds, Goku.”

For a moment, Goku prepared to reply back in the language he knew. He hesitated for a moment, remembering what everyone on the planet said. His eyebrows knitted together, his eyes narrowing, thinking about the consonants, the cadence and the words themselves. Then, he said, very slowly, “Dee-in, mee-oh, King Sadala.”

The King grinned in reply. “With confidence next time, _k’ne_? You said it well.”

Whatever Goku wanted to say in return stopped when he heard the double doors open wide, each one slamming into the walls. He turned to the end of the room and found Vegeta in full royal regalia zooming in, rushing past him and right for the seat beside the King. In Sadalan, Vegeta said, “My apologies for my tardiness, King Sadala.”

“No harm done, Prince Vegeta. How was your rest?”

“Needed. I also apologize for missing last night’s festivities as well.”

Goku’s eyes widened. _What?_ He looked at Vegeta, really _looked_ at him. Nothing looked off from what he could tell. He looked well rested, refreshed, his clothes immaculate, nothing hastily put on or anything. Nothing looked weird or off or wrong. But he missed last night. He wasn’t there. The second to last holy day of Soli’s week and Vegeta wasn’t there for some reason.

The King waved Vegeta off. “As I told Goku here, you missed nothing of importance. Tonight is what matters most.”

“Understood.”

Vegeta stayed silent the rest of the meal. The King spoke of today’s festivities, what time everyone should arrive, what to wear and what plans he had prepared for the day. Chikora participated in the conversation, but Goku tuned them out, focusing his attention on Vegeta. Nothing really was off. He ate with normal voracity. He sat up tall, he appeared sharp with his senses and his ki wasn’t off either. He truly looked fine. But the longer he sat next to Vegeta, the more Goku noticed something was off. Something about him was different. Yes Vegeta didn’t meet his eye or even give him a piece of attention whatsoever, but that was normal too. Vegeta never really did that. But Goku couldn’t shake off the feeling that something changed and he needed to figure out what it was.

The only thing he did notice was how the twins scooted their chairs a little further down the table once Vegeta arrived. He also noticed how the twins never looked at Vegeta, instead keeping their attentions back to their meals. Maybe Vegeta was the one who reprimanded the twins, because that fear Goku noticed earlier had tripled in magnitude. But why would Vegeta reprimand them? What could’ve happened that would’ve caused Vegeta to snap at them? For all Goku knew, the twins loved and respected Vegeta, and there was no way Vegeta would reprimand royalty against the King’s wishes. Unless the King asked Vegeta to do that for him?

His gut flipped at one small, wayward thought that hit him towards the end of breakfast. Did Vegeta yell at them for how they treated him? Would Vegeta do that? Vegeta clearly knew that the twins made his life hell but he hadn’t snapped at them before at all, because that wasn’t Vegeta. He wouldn’t make a scene or reprimand royalty against protocol. Goku pushed the thought away as quickly as it came. That, out of all of his potential thoughts—that was the least likely of the potential reasons. Vegeta reprimanded the twins, probably because of the King, and he might’ve gone too far if the twins’s reaction was any indication. Nothing to do with himself. Not at all.

But something had changed. Something in Vegeta. That thought nagged him as the King dismissed everyone for the day. He then felt Vegeta pass by him on the way to the double doors and noticed a heat coming off of him—a warm, gentle, comforting heat that reminded Goku of what he felt the day before. Like a big hug, or a gigantic blanket, wrapping around him. He followed behind Vegeta, ignoring the excited shouts of the twins to come with them to the sparring grounds. To his relief, he heard Chikora’s soft voice asking them to wait. How the princess knew his needs, Goku didn’t know, but he was thankful for her perception.

Outside the chamber doors, Goku called out, “Hey Vegeta?”

The prince stopped mid-walk, his red cape billowing around him. He turned on one heel to face him halfway

“Are you doing okay? You missed last night.”

He nodded—and Goku felt the world tilt on its side when he saw Vegeta smile at him. Actually, legitimately smile. “Yes. I’m fine.”

His mind said _no you’re not_ , but his gut screamed at him, _yes he is._ Because Goku knew sincerity when he heard it and saw it. And Vegeta was being sincere. Honest, true and blatantly sincere—something Goku didn’t know Vegeta could do. Usually the man hid himself behind walls upon walls. But now, those walls were gone, and there it was, in front of him, open and bare and honest. Actually honest.

It unnerved the hell out of him.

Goku bit back the urge to argue and said, “You sure?” He ventured one step forward to him, gesturing to Vegeta with both of hands. “I just feel something’s… off, y’know? I don’t know why, but something’s different.”

Bare honesty stared right back at him. No walls. Nothing held back. Vegeta nodded again. “Kohltavi helped me learn something yesterday.” Then an emotion washed over Vegeta’s face—one Goku couldn’t discern or figure out. An emotion that seeped into Vegeta’s very soft voice. “Something I didn’t even know I needed.”

Goku’s gut screamed _something’s off_. Goku’s mind said _oh cool_ and he listened to his mind, blurting out, “Is it a new technique?”

Vegeta’s soft chuckle churned and twisted Goku’s insides. He felt a blush heat his cheeks, but not a shred of shame or humiliation filtered through. It wasn’t an admonishing chuckle, or a laugh to belittle him. It sounded… fond. Almost sweet. 

Two small arms wrapped around each of his biceps, yanking him backwards. Rapidfire Sadalan reached his ears. “Come on Goku!” “Let’s go already!” “Let’s go spar!” “Come teach us!” “I’m ready!” “I’m ready too!” “Get moving!” “Yeah, get moving!”

Goku gaped at each twin on either side of his body. They floated in the air, jerking at each of his arms with all their might, forcing Goku to jerk backwards and his feet to lift from the ground. But they held him upright with their strength, laughing and chattering up a storm.

“We’ll chat later,” Vegeta said, and Goku turned to him, watching him spin on his heel and wave over his shoulder. “Princes don’t like to wait.”

He didn’t get a chance to watch Vegeta any further. Two hard tugs on his arms yanked Goku further down the hallway and he laughed, jerking his limbs out of their hold. He turned around, facing both floating twins and put his hands on his hips. “Okay you two. You’ve got my full attention.”

They spun around him in the air, shouting in Sadalan, their voices overlapping each other. “Yes!” “Let’s go!” “Don’t hold back!” “Teach us everything!” “Make it hard!” “Yeah make it hard!” Then they sped down the hallway in a blur, servants and soldiers alike jumping out of the way.

Goku shook his head and chased after them. Yes, something was off with Vegeta and he couldn’t put his finger on what. But Vegeta knew something was different. He went to Kohltavi for something, and whatever happened, Vegeta at least looked okay. He gave off a different vibe, but Goku could find out later what it was. He’d get it out of Vegeta one way or another, especially if it was a new technique.

His laughter echoed in the hall as Goku turned the corner, shouting on top of his lungs, “Wait up, you two!” laughter echoing in the halls.

At the opposite end of the hall stood Vegeta, who looked over his shoulder and watched Goku disappear from his view—still smiling that same gentle, sweet smile.

***

Two hours later, Goku left the Sadalan training grounds with fresh dirt on his cheeks and hands, his orange gi cut and torn in various places. He waved goodbye to the two twins who zoomed down the opposite end of the hall with their tutors in tow. His stomach rumbled at him yet again and he patted his belly, heading in the direction of his personal chambers. First, a shower. Then, food.

It was a good, needed workout and definitely his first good time with the twins. They both worked hard and listened to every word he said, even the criticisms he threw their way when they tried some old sneak attacks that Goku knew wouldn’t work out on the battlefield. Over the course of their time together, both twins honed in on their teamworking skills and grew exponentially in terms of power and battle tactics. If they were to keep up their training, they’d be ready to tap into Super Saiyan in no time. More than once the twins caught Goku off guard while he stayed in his base form and he loved the challenge and the thrill they provided him. It was obvious they loved it too, laughing, smiling, joking around with him the entire time. They didn’t belittle him or mock him or sneer at him. Of the two, Baternat had the most pride and was the more inclined to use his wits before brute strength, while Courget was the most powerful but lacked the ability to hold his ki back. Once they got the hang of working together, Goku finally felt sweat roll down the sides of his face.

The best part was how the twins defended him when the soldiers in the _ambuwa gumisou_ all gathered around to watch, and a few tried to intervene, thinking Goku was going to hurt the two princes. Baternat was the first to come to his defense, snapping at the soldier to back off or else. Courget was the more brash of the two, blatantly announcing to every soldier in attendance that if they interfered in any way, they were spitting on the pride of the princes of Sadala—words that made Goku chuckle because they sounded so much like Vegeta in that moment. It was nice to see the twins not only work together on the battlefield, but outside of it, all in the name of defending Goku to the other Saiyans. Of course the other Saiyans in the palace didn’t trust him because it was the twins’s fault, but they were clearly making up for those mistakes, and Goku wasn’t going to stop them from doing that. He was all about redemption, and the twins were children in the first place. Children had to learn, like his own sons had to learn, and it made him feel good to know that he was partaking in a lesson the twins would remember always.

As he turned a corner, he heard the familiar voice of Cabba down the hallway. Goku caught him sandwiched between two soldiers on either side, all dressed in the same Sadalan Defense Forces uniform—soldiers that Goku remembered from last time, when he fought Cabba at the ambuwa gumisou. It didn’t surprise him when Cabba caught his eye first and waved at him as they walked closer, shouting his name, but the other two soldiers glared at him, shoulders and jaws tense.

They came to a stop in the middle of the hallway, Goku waving to Cabba and saying in what he was sure was a terrible pronunciation: “Tuh-eh, Cabba!”

The soldiers mouths dropped. Cabba smiled wider than before. “Well done! That was perfect.”

“Thanks! I actually can understand everyone”—sure enough, those two soldiers’s faces turned bright, beet red, like the twins did earlier—"but I’m working on replying back to people.”

“That’ll come in time, I’m sure of it.” Cabba gestured to his clothes. “Did you just finished sparring Master Vegeta?”

“Nah, he’s off doing his own thing. I was training the twin princes actually.”

If the two soldiers’s faces had the ability to fall off and to the ground, Goku was sure they would. Cabba simply chuckled and shook his head. “Of course you were. Only you would be able to befriend those two.”

“They’re not so bad, really! They’re pretty strong and fun to spar with.”

“I occasionally have to guard them, so I have a bit of a different perspective. By the way—” He then switched to Sadalan. “—would you prefer if I spoke to you more in Sadalan, so you’re able to hear the language more and practice it?”

“Sure! That’d be great, Cabba, thanks.”

“No trouble at all.” He gestured to the two soldiers on either side of him. “We should probably get back to our duties. If you’re hungry, there’s a cafeteria two halls from the right of your personal chambers with ready made food. Anyone in the palace can partake in it. That’s where we were coming from originally.”

“Awesome!” He walked past Cabba and the soldiers, waving goodbye. “See ya later tonight!”

“See ya Goku!”

Behind him, in whispered Sadalan, he heard the two soldiers’s voices overlap each other. Words like ‘oh no’ and ‘he knew’ and ‘shit’ and ‘dammit.’ His sensitive hearing picked up Cabba’s replies, like ‘he’s not what you thought,’ and ‘do better next time,’ and his personal favorite: ‘don’t ever say a bad thing about him again.’ Because the soldiers agreed with Cabba, swearing they wouldn’t and that they’d give him a second chance. Goku didn’t care if the soldiers, or if any other soldiers in the palace, actually gave him that chance. They made their judgements, and sometimes judgements were skewed, so they were all worthy of their own second chances.

Goku frowned as he rounded the corner, walking towards his personal chambers. Yes, they deserved second chances, and yes, it didn’t matter to him either way if they actually wanted to get to know him or not, and yes, it was nice that he seemed to be fitting in better. But it bugged Goku about how he felt coming to the planet initially, how he was treated beforehand, before he learned the language and the culture thanks to Kohltavi’s help. If it didn’t bug him now, why did it bug him earlier this week? No one liked him, no one thought highly of him, no one treated him with respect, everyone thought the worst of him, everyone preferred Vegeta over him—

He tripped a little in his steps, then recovered, continuing his walk. None of the servants around him noticed the hiccup.

Vegeta was more accepted than he was in the beginning. Maybe that was it. Vegeta fit in perfectly in this society and this culture. Goku didn’t. Goku knew he wasn’t a good Saiyan, that he wasn’t Saiyan enough, and while that never, ever bugged him in the past, now he was confronted with it, in the flesh, with people that were supposed to be his own, and they rejected him because he was too ‘weird’ or ‘off’ or ‘awkward.’ Maybe that was why it bugged him so much in the beginning that everyone bad mouthed him and everyone thought the worst of him, because he usually made friends and got along with everyone, and this time, he didn’t. This time, it was Vegeta who fit in, and he didn’t whatsoever. Not until now.

But was he acting out because he resented the fact that Vegeta was more accepted than he was? That, Goku didn’t believe. He didn’t resent Vegeta. He was thrilled Vegeta was welcomed. Goku was never a Saiyan and never proclaimed himself a Saiyan and even now, even after reclaiming his memories and knowing his past and his parents, he still didn’t believe he was a Saiyan at heart. He was a Saiyan in name only. Vegeta—he was a true Saiyan, through and through. Even though Chikora said he acted more Saiyan than he thought. Even though Kohltavi said he was a Saiyan. The powers were there, the love of battle, the thirst for challenge, but that was it. Vegeta was a real, true Saiyan. Goku wasn’t and never would be Saiyan enough.

_You are enough._

He slowed down in his steps.

Vegeta, in his mind, in Super Saiyan God form. Holding his fist. Holding him in place. Staring right through him and all of the extreme emotions and wild thoughts that overwhelmed his psyche and his body.

_You **are** enough._

When he came to a full stop, Goku stared ahead.

No servants in the hallway. No one around. Only pictures and torches and stained glass windows, a kaleidoscope of colors littering the burgundy carpets and stone floors.

The memory of Vegeta, in the same form as him, standing in the desolate wasteland, holding his fist, under the silver moonlight. Saying those words, the words Goku had no idea he needed to hear in that moment, words he didn’t want to hear either. Words with sincerity and truth and meaning behind them, because Vegeta didn’t bullshit the truth. Vegeta meant it, like he meant the truth earlier today, after breakfast.

_You are enough_ , Vegeta said, and Goku knew what the man meant _. You are Saiyan enough. You are enough for this planet, for these people, for yourself._

He thought _and for me_ and Goku froze.

Vegeta. That smile after breakfast. His words. His gentle laugh. The warmth radiating from him, a warmth Goku itched to come closer to—

Goku shook his head, muttering aloud, “Nope. Stop that.” He slapped his head as he continued his walk down the hallway to his room. “Not going down that road. Nope.”

To his chagrin, the thoughts and the images didn’t go away. He kept thinking about Vegeta, the memories, his words, that damned warmth, the weird feeling coming from him, and Goku forced himself to meditate for a half hour before stepping into the shower for a rinse. Luckily, the meditation did the trick and he thought of nothing as he cleaned himself up, putting on a new set of orange gi that Chichi made him pack for instances like this.

Once cleaned, he made his way to the cafeteria, remembering Cabba’s directions. He headed right the whole way, and as he walked, he passed by some open windows, where the sounds of Saiyans celebrating outside filtered and echoed through the massive hallways. He caught sight of a few beyond the palace walls dancing and singing, the lyrics praising Soli and praising Tor, though they veered more towards the first goddess than the second. He watched children in the streets, a few holding smaller versions of those tuba and trumpet-like instruments he noticed earlier in the day, playing to the beat of the music.

He walked down the hall, listening and watching the Saiyans outside, and wondered what tonight would entail. Goku knew he had to change clothes later, slipping into the Sadalan armor hanging in his closet, which was fine. He also knew he had to choose a memory to celebrate and honor, from what Chikora had said earlier in the week. Now that he had his memories, as hard and difficult as they were to remember, he at least knew what he was doing tonight. He could participate and honor their memory. Bardock and Gine. His parents—

He clicked his fingers. “Oh yeah!” Goku looked up to the ceiling with a wide grin. “Hey King Kai, you got a sec?”

A few seconds passed. Nothing.

“King Kai?”

More seconds passed and still nothing.

“Huh.” Goku frowned. “Why isn’t he—” He slapped his forehead. “Oh, that’s right! Different universe.” He shook his head before trying again. “Hey Whis? You there?”

This one took even more time. But eventually, Goku heard an echo of a reply. “Why Goku, you aren’t due to come home for another week. Are you feeling homesick?”

If this was earlier in the week, Goku would’ve said yes. Instead, he said, “Nope, I’m good! I was wondering if you could somehow get me in contact with King Kai, or maybe King Yemma if that’s easier. I wanted to learn more about my parents.”

“Parents, you say? Well, I’ll see what I can do.” A few seconds passed, then: “It will take a few minutes, but I can connect you between universes to King Yemma directly.”

“Thanks a lot Whis! I appreciate it!” He waved to a pair of servants who gawked at him as he passed them by. Up again, he saw a few Saiyan soldiers leave a room, holding large trays of food, and his stomach released a deafening growl. “Take your time, I’m off to eat. I’m starving!”

Whis’s chuckle reverberated in his mind. “I’m sure you are. Let me know when you’re ready.”

He didn’t bother replying, instead pushing open the double doors and finding a plethora of Saiyans sitting and standing, all of them eating piles and piles of food. Behind plexiglass stood other Saiyans, cooking over gigantic pots and pans, searing heat and hot smoke rising up and above. He licked his lips and zoomed right in, heading for a station serving thick, large slices of a gigantic snaggle-toothed animal to a long line of hungry Saiyans.

***

Goku bounded out of the cafeteria, his focus solely on the location of Vegeta’s ki in the palace. The information he learned from King Yemma about his parents, their backgrounds, their personalities, their likes and dislikes—it all swarmed his mind and he needed to tell someone all of this information, right now, and the only one who would probably and possibly be interested in knowing was Vegeta. Even if the man ended up snapping at him to shut up and be quiet, like Goku was sure he would, he didn’t care. He knew more about his parents than he ever thought possible and the information solved every deep fear he didn’t know he possessed inside of himself.

He found Vegeta on the other side of the palace, next to Chikora’s ki. He placed two fingers to his forehead and materialized himself in front of a room and a wooden door, where two soldiers flanked either side. Those soldiers jumped in place when he appeared, both of them removing the spears on their back and pointing them right at him. Goku smiled at them with a little wave, and the soldiers blinked, muttered apologies and bowed their heads to him, the spears returning back to their spots.

He came up to the door, knocking on it a few times. “Hey Vegeta! Chikora!”

From behind the wood, he heard Chikora say, “It’s open!”

Goku wrapped his hand around the knob and pushed the door open. He stepped inside to a dark purple room, the shades of the window drawn together and Vegeta and Chikora sitting across from each other at a large table. Books and crystals rested on the wooden top between the two of them. The two look at Goku, and he noticed only Chikora smiled at him. Vegeta was back to his impassive, statue-like self, all the walls up as usual, and the sight actually made Goku feel good.

“How are you, Goku?” Chikora asked.

“Great!” He patted his belly. “Super full. That cafeteria is awesome. Don’t know why I didn’t go there earlier. Then again, I didn’t know it existed until Cabba told me. But anyway—” He then pointed to Vegeta. “—I was wondering if I could talk to Vegeta for a sec. If he’s free to talk, that is.”

Chikora nodded. “Of course. We just finished.” She reached across the table for two of the stones there as well as a book, gathering them up into her arms as she came to standing. “I’ll get you that book I mentioned earlier since you’re here.”

“Thanks!”

He didn’t miss how Chikora gave Vegeta a look—an amused look, for some reason—before turning around and walking to the opposite side of the room where a large bookcase stood, filled to the brim with hundreds of books. He also didn’t miss how Vegeta gave a look back to her, but what was in that look, Goku had no idea. Vegeta was back to being as closed-off as ever.

Vegeta stood up from the table, walking right up to Goku. “Yes Kakarot?”

“I know more about my parents now! I got to talk to King Yemma at the cafeteria and everyone stared at me all weird but that was okay because I know I was talking to myself, but that’s not the point—I got to learn more about them!” He danced on his tip toes, his hands flailing at his sides. “Did you know my mom hated fighting? She stopped planet purging before Raditz was born and became a butcher instead. She didn’t like hurting other people! She hated it!”

Vegeta chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really now.”

“Yeah! And she apparently was a really good butcher on Planet Vegeta. Lots of people said she cut the toughest meat well and had a knack at smoking and marinating meat too. And she was a great cook as well!” His arms flailed up over his head. “But she hated fighting, Vegeta! She was apparently too nice and too kind and everyone said she was a weirdo for it—and apparently that was common on Planet Vegeta!”

“It was. Look at my brother Tarble.”

“Right! He didn’t fit in, and your dad sent him away—”

“For the best that father did that.”

“—yes, yes, I agree, but I thought that Saiyans would kill other Saiyans who acted too nice or too kind but they didn’t! My mom was a weirdo on the planet, but she wasn’t killed, she just got reassigned and she was so much happier and, and, and—!” He flung his arms towards Vegeta, a big grin on his face. “I’m just like my mom! I’m just like her!”

Vegeta chuckled again. “I believe it.”

“See, Goku?” Chikora said from the opposite side of the room, floating up above the ground as she pulled a yellow book out. She looked over her shoulder. “Saiyans are not what you expected nor believed.” She floated back down and walked over to them, holding the book in both hands. “It’s what I said before. Saiyans are complex, emotional creatures, who take as well as save lives, and when we can disagree and do so without harming someone else for what they believe in, we all prosper.” She stood next to Vegeta and presented the book to Goku. “Will we see you tonight?”

He took the proffered book in one hand, nodding his head yes. “Absolutely.”

“Wonderful.” She turned to Vegeta, her smile transforming into a mysterious, unreadable one that he couldn’t put his finger on. “Why don’t you two head to the _yokuthensai_ until then? Goku can practice his Sadalan and you can correct him when needed.”

Vegeta’s own smiled petered off as he glanced at Chikora beside him. Goku caught a glare—a very short, very brief glare—and he was about to say something, when Vegeta cut him off and said in Sadalan, “Excellent idea, your highness.” He turned back to Goku, nodding to him, and that smile returned, albeit a little less big and a little less wide than before. “You can tell me more about what you learned from King Yemma as well.”

“Sweet!” Goku grabbed Vegeta’s arm with his free hand, jerking him out of the room. He waved to Chikora over his shoulder with the hand holding the yellow book and sped out and down the hall, calling out, “Thanks Chikora! See ya tonight!”

To no surprise, Vegeta started yanking in his hold, jerking his arm here and there. “Kakarot!” He pulled even harder, and Goku flew even faster, dragging Vegeta behind him. “Kakarot, let me go this instant!”

Goku laughed in response, laughed even harder as he saw the servants in his purview gawking at the two of them. He felt wild and free and for the first time since this trip began, his actual self, and it felt good, everything felt good. His parents, Vegeta, this palace, this place, these people—it all felt right, and he laughed louder until he felt his chest burn.

“Dammit Kakarot, _stop!_ ” Vegeta shouted stronger than before.

Goku answered his demand by letting his arm go. He watched Vegeta drop to the floor face first, skidding on the carpet, the red cape falling over his face, and he laughed on top of his lungs at the sight, clutching his sides.

Vegeta yanked his cape back, coming to all fours, a growl escaping between his clenched teeth. “Kakarot…”

“What? You asked, I answered.” Goku turned around, yelling over his shoulder, “Come on, then!”

He powered up to Super Saiyan and sped down the hallway. In his purview, he caught Vegeta’s glare and smirk, saw him power up to Super Saiyan as well, and he felt his smile grow even wider, going from ear-to-ear. He headed right for the entrance of the palace, zooming out and into the world, knowing Vegeta was right on his heels behind him.

***

Dusk settled by the time they returned to the palace gates. Goku held in his hands the yellow book Chikora gave him, as well as a huge charred piece of animal on a stick. A brown bag with handles hooked over his right shoulder, stuffed full with jewelry, snacks and souvenirs he thought Chichi, Bulma and the boys would appreciate once they returned back to their universe. Beside him, Vegeta held a similar animal on a stick as well, his piece nearly finished. He nodded to the soldiers at the gates who nodded back to Vegeta before knocking on the massive doors and they opened for them both.

It was fun in a different way from fighting or sparring. Talking to the different vendors, working on his Sadalan, telling Vegeta everything about his parents—about his dad, General Bardock, the third class Saiyan warrior who found out Frieza was going to destroy the planet and made a last stand against him; about his mom, Gine, the third class woman who hated being a warrior—it was different and nice and welcomed. He didn’t think Vegeta would enjoy being translator or helper, especially once the man realized how handicapped Goku was when it came to speaking another language as complicated as Sadalan. But Vegeta helped him, let him practice, corrected as needed and explain different customs and words along the way. He listened to his stories about his parents, even asked questions too. It really made the hours fly by, so much so that if it wasn’t for the last vendor telling him to go prepare for tonight’s festivities, Goku would’ve forgotten, and by the shocked look on Vegeta’s face, probably Vegeta too.

With some food stuffed in his face, Goku spoke between chews. “That was great!” He swallowed, then took another bite out of his meat stick. “Mmm, so good.” He turned to Vegeta beside him, waving the stick a little. “What’s this called again?”

“ _Inyama he’ga’to_. Similar to pork roasted on a skewer. Except this animal is much larger and much more vicious to hunt.”

“Mmm.” He one last bite, talking between each chew, “I love it!”

“You loved everything there.”

“Yeah, true, but—” Goku swallowed, putting the empty stick into his bag “—this time I could ask for it myself! I didn’t need help or anything. Makes me feel good that I’m getting this language thing, y’know?”

Vegeta smirked. “Hn. I suppose so.” He took another bite of his stick as they passed by rows of soldiers practicing or marching inside the palace walls. “I guess even you have some pride in yourself.”

“Well, yeah.” Goku smiled as they came up to the large double doors to the palace itself. “I am a Saiyan.”

Goku paused in step with Vegeta, watching that smirk of his turn into a small little ‘o,’ his eyes wide, and it pleased him a little that he caught the man off guard. The walls came back up though and Vegeta smirked again, pointing the last of the meat stick his way. “That is the first time I’ve heard you say that and actually _mean_ it.”

A shaky, small laugh slipped out of him as Goku looked away and down to the ground, his free hand scratching the back of his head. “Figured I should admit it, especially after finding out more about my mom and my dad.” He glanced back at Vegeta, a light pink blush rising on his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“For…?”

“How I thought about Saiyans and stuff.” He fidgeted in place, rocking back and forth on his heels, slightly nipping at the inside of his bottom lip. “I thought they were all the same. Like you were when we first met. But I knew from the beginning you would change, you had the capacity for good. Though, Chikora says I acted more like a Saiyan and thought that because you were strong, you should be saved. So, I dunno, but, point is…” He turned his head more to the side, the blush deepening on his pale cheeks. “I’m glad you’re here with me, I’m _really_ glad I stopped Krillin from killing you, and I’m _really_ sorry I thought the worst about our people.” He slid his free hand out of his hair. It flopped by his side as he took in a big inhale, held it for a moment, and with the exhale, Goku blurted out, “Thanks for making me come with you.”

The double doors of the palace opened wide for them. Soldiers filtered in and out, some passing by Goku, some by Vegeta. Sounds of Sadalan, of laughter, of voices from different ages. The sound of horns from the other side of the palace walls.

He waited for a scoff, a laugh. Maybe even a snort or the click of a tongue, a soft ‘tch’ or a ‘hn.’ Dismissing him, pushing Goku away, blowing off whatever he said—the usual from Vegeta. The expected. The normal.

Beside him, he heard Vegeta whisper, “You’re welcome.”

Goku felt the blush on his cheeks intensify to the point where he did not and could not look back at Vegeta whatsoever. Instead, a small, awkward laugh slipped out of him as he scratched the back of his head, and he blurted out in a rush: “Okay, off to get ready, see ya later!” Then he put his fingers to his forehead and transmissioned right to the safety of his room, dumping the book and the goodies to the floor. He shook out his arms, shook his head, caught his breath and slowed down his heartrate.

He actually said thank you. The man actually thanked him, and Vegeta meant it. Just like he meant those words earlier, after breakfast. The same sincerity. The same fondness. Something he noticed the entire time they were at the bazaar. Whenever Goku tried saying a few words or asked a few questions in Sadalan, Vegeta didn’t berate him or belittle him or make fun of him. He listened, corrected him, taught him the inflection, the differences with the clicks of the tongue versus guttural rolling of r’s and s’s. He translated for him when asked and stood back and let him take control when Goku attempted practicing his Sadalan. He never pushed him. Never voiced any complaints or annoyances or irritations, even when Goku could see Vegeta was on the verge of snapping at him. Vegeta held back. Vegeta stopped himself. He took it all and kept trying with him, not once blowing up at him.

Different. Very different. Very unlike himself, even though some of his mannerisms were still the same. He was still the same proud prince, still carried himself with the poise and grace of a well-seasoned royal, full of confidence and knowledge. But there was a softer edge Goku couldn’t ignore, one that matched all the warmth he felt radiating from Vegeta—a warmth he _still_ couldn’t figure out where it came from—and it was very, very different. Very weird.

And nice. It was… nice.

Nice, and good, and…

He buried his face in his hands.

Really, _really_ attractive.

“Nope.” Goku shook his head, rubbing at his hot face. “Nope, nope, nope. Not now.” He headed for the bathroom, slipping off his orange gi. “Not thinking about that. Not tonight. Nope.”

***

A quick meditation banished all previous thoughts Goku housed in his mind. After showering, he donned the Sadalan armor, first slipping into the black undersuit, then sliding the silver breast plate with gold straps up over his head. Adjusting the buckles took less time than he spent before, having figured out how to work them prior. The onyx boots shined in the waning sunlight outside his open window, as did the gold trimmings throughout the outfit. He glanced at himself in the mirror, adjusting the breast plate and fanning his palms down the three long pieces of leather over his pelvic region—his fingers lingering over the red crest on his left—before leaving his chambers for the outside world.

Two guards in royal Sadalan armor waited for him there, flanked on either side of the door. They saluted him with one hand to their chest, bowing their heads deeply. “Follow us,” one of them said, and Goku nodded, a small smile on his face.

The many torches on the wall lit the way, illuminating against the growing darkness creeping in from the outside. He glanced out the many windows as the guards guided him down the halls, and he noticed the gates to the interior of the place were wide open. Thousands of Saiyans began to filter inside, the rest congregating outside the walls. In the distance, the sun finally set, the sky’s pinks and purples giving way to the ever growing blackness, stars popping up one by one.

By the time the guards led Goku outside to the front of the palace, all he saw were the stars above him, a cloudless sky, and a bright, full moon above. All around him stood Saiyans of various ages, heights, weights and backgrounds. Some dressed in threadbare harem pants and top. Others dressed in the finest silk robes he had ever seen. The rest varied. Some reminded Goku of farmers. Some looked like the same traders and barters he found at the bazaar. Soldiers, non-soldiers, upper class, middle, lower—they all congregated inside the palace walls and chatted amongst themselves. All Saiyans. All brethren.

He heard the sound of horns coming from the palace and he followed the crowd’s line of sight, looking up and ahead. There he found a large, ornate balcony, with a purple, red and orange tapestry hanging over the edge, showing the symbol of the House of Sadala. The twins stood there in royal regalia, as did the crown princess Chikora. On either side of them stood soldiers holding those very tubas and trumpets Goku saw earlier in the day, but much more opulent.

Chikora stepped forward, spreading her arms wide. In Sadalan, she shouted, “Welcome, brothers and sisters, to the last day of our week of remembrance!” Goku mouthed the Sadalan word to himself— _m’na’kubula_ —as she continued. “Tonight, we remember all that we were, all that we are now and all that we wish to be. We honor our loved ones, our family, our ancestors. We honor the sacrifices they made, the lessons they taught, the stories they’ve told, the lives they lived, by choosing our most precious memory”—Goku mouthed the Sadalan word for it, _m’ni’kopa_ —“on this sacred night, in hopes that our goddess Soli will bless us for the rest of our coming new year.”

As one, the two twin princes lifted their hands and turned their attentions to the skies above. “Bless us, Soli! Guide us all so we may choose wisely! Grant us peace and a plentiful new year!”

The crowd cried out as one, “Uzko du Soli! Tor vuma uthi’ho!” _Glory to Soli! Tor be praised!_ Goku muttered along, trying to mimic the phrasing.

Out of the shadows, King Sadala emerged, also addressing the crowd in Sadalan. “Saiyans, the time has arrived. Honor the goddesses and think deeply of your memory. Pull it close to you, manifest it into your ki.” He gestured his arms above, looking to the empty starry skies there. “And send it above to the heavens, so your ancestors know you continue their story, even now.”

Around Goku, Saiyans bowed their heads and lifted their hands to their chests, cupping the palms together, as if ready to gather water inside. A row of Saiyans beside him created small white lights in their palms, casting thick shadows on their faces. Then another row. And another. Goku spun around from where he stood and saw Saiyans, one by one, harnessing small white ki in their palms. Some lingered for a moment. Some looked downright frustrated. But even the frustrated created something in their hands.

He turned his attention back to the balcony where the royal family stood. Even there, he saw the twins each holding a small white light. Chikora too. The King as well, and he had tears in his eyes, as well as a small, sad smile.

Goku looked down at his own hands. He pressed them close to his chest, palms up, side by side, cupping invisible water.

Slowly, he closed his eyes.

In the darkness of his lids, he saw his mother’s smile. His father’s proud grin. Heard his mother’s voice, smelled her scent of fresh herbs. Heard his father’s voice, saw his large hand resting over a red glass.

Thousands of stars. Their retreating forms, growing smaller and smaller, as the pod rushed away from the planet, taking him to his new home, to safety, to hope. Bardock’s palpable sadness. Gine’s desperation.

Their love, for him.

_Don’t forget us, Kakarooot!_

Sharp tears stung his shut eyes.

Warm light, between his palms, against his chest.

Goku sniffed, cupping the precious light closer to him. He bowed his neck, squeezing his eyes tighter. Two streaks of tears ran down his face to his jawline, dripped to the dirt ground beneath him.

_Na’ma. Ja’ta._

Gine’s smile. Bardock’s smile.

He smiled just like both of them. Just like them.

Goku allowed that smile to rise on his face as he opened his eyes, the gentle light reflecting off his black irises. “D’in m’yo,” he whispered. “Na’ma. Ja’ta.”

The light flickered in his hands, as if replying.

He smiled at the sight.

Above him, he heard the King shout in Sadalan, “For you, dear Soli! And for you, sister Tor! For you all, ancestors! Loved ones!” Goku looked above to the sky, to the thousands upon thousands of stars, to the moon waiting there. “We will always remember!”

One by one, the lights rose up into the sky like falling stars in reverse. Streaks of white bled upwards, illuminating the palace walls, the grounds, the palace itself. Warm light. Beautiful, warm light, full of precious memories, full of gratitude, of love. All from his people. His kind.

Goku lifted his arms above, releasing the light. It joined the thousands and thousands of others around him, filling up the night sky. He spun around in a circle, catching the slack-jawed, wide-eyed, smiling faces of every Saiyan around him. Parents holding children. Couples holding each other. Friends holding hands. They all looked above, every Saiyan, of every background. They looked above to the light, to the sky, and Goku imprinted the beautiful sight to his memory, so he could never forget. So he knew these were his people, his race, his history. They were Saiyan, and so was he.

A presence. As warm as the lights around him. It came up beside him. Goku looked down and a small gasp slipped out.

Vegeta, dressed in his regalia. That smile from earlier. The warmth coming off him. That weird, indiscernible look on his face. The stone around his neck glittered in the white light around them, as did his hair, and his eyes.

_Beautiful._

Another deep blush on his cheeks popped up. Goku looked back up at the sky, away from Vegeta. With all the activity around them and the bright white light, there was a good chance Vegeta didn’t see the blush, and if he did, Goku knew he could talk his way out of it later, if Vegeta brought it up by any chance.

Music rose from the balcony, the same horns, but now strings accompanied it. He caught a soft feminine voice singing to the tune and noticed in the light it came from Chikora, her arms spread wide out, singing to the sky above. He listened in and found no words he could understand. They did sound Sadalan, the cadence and the inflection was the same, but they sounded old, ancient.

“It’s the song of Soli and Tor,” Vegeta said beside him. “Only sung for high holy days.”

Goku nodded—and he froze in place when he felt Vegeta’s hand rest on the small of his back. The blush intensified even more. A dizziness hit his head. Part of him wanted to step away from Vegeta, almost casually move to the side. The other part, the part that won out, kept Goku in place.

As the song reached its crescendo, the crowd around them came alive, chanting the words Goku understood. Uzko du Soli. Tor vuma uthi’ho. Glory to Soli. Tor be praised. He practiced those words under his breath for a moment before he joined in, his voice growing louder and more confident the more he heard the Saiyans around him and the more he practiced the inflection and the clicks of his tongue. Soon he heard Vegeta’s gravely voice chanting alongside him, until his voice melted along with the crowd and the Saiyans synced as one, chanting to the sky again, and again, and again.

Then, the song ended on a beautiful high note. The music faded away. The light soon after, until nothing but blackness and stars and the moon rested above their heads. The crowd dispersed in small clusters, filtering out of the palace gates. Goku watched the royal family leave the balcony, with the last one lingering behind being the King. With tears in his eyes, he stared at the sky above, his black irises reflecting the stars themselves. Then he turned away, his large cape fluttering behind him in his wake.

Slowly, the hand on the small of Goku’s back pulled away. He released a small sigh, palpable relief washing over him, and turned to his side to Vegeta—only to find him turning from him and walking away.

“Good night, Kakarot,” Vegeta said.

Goku lost him in the crowd quite easily. He stared in the general direction Vegeta left in, his hands itching by his sides, his cheeks wet from his prior tears. The urge to follow, to chase him down, to ask him how it was for him, what he thought of, what memory he had, what was wrong with him, what was going on with him, why was he acting this way, why did he do that, why did he touch his back, why, why—Goku didn’t act on it. He pushed the urge down and stared ahead, willing himself to turn back, to turn away too, to go back to his room and stop blushing and not go after Vegeta. Not now.

By the time he moved from his spot, a large majority of the crowd had left the inside of the palace and the gates began to close. A gentle warmth lingered on the small of his back as he returned inside and headed for his personal chambers. It didn’t bug Goku, didn’t hurt him or anything. It simply stayed there, warming his skin, as if Vegeta was still there, still touching him. Stayed the entire way until Goku entered the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

He dumped the clothes to the floor and curled into bed, wrapping the sheets tight around his body. No cold from the outside bothered him. He felt good, warm, sleepy, that same warm blanket from before, from all day really, surrounding him from head to toe. As warm as Vegeta. As warm as Vegeta’s hand.

Goku shut his eyes, succumbing to sleep. Tomorrow. He’d ask tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist for the image above: Nazarine.


	7. Chapter 7

Goku found Vegeta not at breakfast, nor the King. Chikora explained their whereabouts before he could even ask: the King needed to attend a meeting and requested Vegeta’s presence, which the prince readily accepted. Goku accepted this, despite a part of him disappointed. He ignored that disappointment for now, not wanting to delve too deep into why he felt that way, and focused his energy into eating and later in sparring and training the twin princes.

After two hours of sparring and a half hour of gorging on piles of food at the cafeteria, Goku searched the palace for Vegeta’s ki and found it still next to the King’s in a room somewhere. Whatever they were doing was taking forever, which annoyed him. He needed to speak to Vegeta and that wasn’t happening. Part of him felt relieved that he could justify putting off the conversation. But he listened more to the other part of him that felt very, very annoyed. He wasn’t the kind to hide away from a confrontation. He needed to ask Vegeta what happened when he met with Kohltavi, because _something_ was off about him, and he had to know what.

It was weird that Vegeta acted a little nicer around him. Weird that Vegeta acted a little bit more patient and a little bit more kind. Weird as hell that Vegeta was looking at him differently and acting a little bit differently, even though they was nothing different with his ki, nothing outwardly different about his personality, and all of this was something Goku for the life of him could not figure out. Did Kohltavi give him new powers, or tap into something he already had inside? Did she train Vegeta? Why was he giving off that weird warmth? How was it lingering on Goku this easily? He didn’t feel it now that hours had passed, but he still remember how it felt on his body and how it felt coming off of Vegeta and it annoyed him how nice it felt and how nice it was that Vegeta was nice and—

Goku groaned as he felt another blush crossing his cheeks, the heat palpable and burning.

Attractive. Vegeta was very, very attractive.

 _Nope. None of that. Not the point._ He headed to his bedroom, rubbing at his hot face. _Not important, not happening, not attractive, nope, nope, nope._

But it _was_ nice. Vegeta, in that outfit, helping him, going to the _yokuthensai_ with him, listening to him, buying those snacks with him—the way he looked last night, in all that white light—and the way Vegeta _looked_ at him—

He smacked himself upside the head. “Stop it.” He smacked himself once, twice, then muttered in time with each smack, “Stop it, stop it, stop it.”

Goku killed a bit more time once in his bedroom, performing a short, meditative kata, focusing on every inhale and exhale of his breath and nothing else. Unlike before, his energy didn’t shoot up and out of his control. He stayed focused with each movement of his body, his mind sharp. Little by little, his previous thoughts melted away, until he could think of only his movements and his breath.

Once finished, he checked the clock—forty minutes gone—and then checked on Vegeta’s ki.

A deep sigh slipped out when he noticed no change at all. Still the same room, still with the King, still doing whatever they were doing.

Gentle knocking echoed in his chambers. He turned his attention to the door and noticed Chikora’s ki on the other side. “Come in,” he said.

She peaked her head in, a small smile on her face. “I could sense your frustration down the hall. Would you like some company until Vegeta finishes with father?”

“Might as well.” He motioned her in, taking a seat at the edge of his bed. “How’s it going?”

“Good, thank you.” Chikora closed the door behind her as she walked over to one of the elaborate chairs in the room, nestled up against an equally elaborate table. “I have a small break in my studies before I am due at Lady Kohltavi’s temple later this afternoon.”

“What’re you studying?”

“Saiyan magic, like the ones you and the Prince practice.” She took a seat, facing Goku. “When Kohltavi passes on, I will become not only Queen of Sadala but also the head priestess of our lands.”

“Oh wow! That sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

“It is. But I have prepared for it my whole life.” She smiled. “I won’t be alone though. Baternat and Courget are showing great promise in their magic studies to the point where they might be summoned before Kohltavi to hone in on their skills. Between the three of us, we should be able to rule the kingdom well.”

“That’s great! I’m really glad you have your brothers.”

“As am I. I do hope once we are in our roles that the court doesn’t force us to call the twins by their first names.”

“Why’s that?”

“They are both named Sadala, after father. I was supposed to be named Sadala, as is tradition with the first born child of the royal family, but he named me after my mother instead. We call the twins by their middle names, but royal decorum states that once we assume the titles of Queen and Prince Reagents to the Queen respectively, we are to be addressed by our first names.” She chuckled. “I’m thinking on my first day as Queen, I’ll change that stupid rule.”

“Good idea! That’s bound to be confusing after a while.”

Her smile waned a little as she said, “I do wish Mother could be there, the day I ascend the throne.” Chikora sighed. “If only she was as lucky as you.”

Goku tilted his head. “What’re you talking about?”

“ _Dra’zela_. ‘War mind.’ You recovered. She did not.”

“Drah-what? What’s that?”

Chikora’s eyes blew wide open. She returned her attention to Goku, her mouth slack-jawed. “He didn’t tell you?”

Goku frowned. “Tell me what?”

She stood up from the chair, walking towards him. “Your _umoya_. His _umoya_. This—all of this—” She gestured to his whole body, her head shaking no. “Goku, you _couldn’t_ have survived if it wasn’t—if you two didn’t have—” A sharp gasp ripped out of her. “Oh dear Soli.”

“What?” He leaned away from her as he watched her hands lift towards him, close to touching his face. “Chikora, what’re you doing?”

“What I should have done to begin with. Checking your _umoya_.” A gentle light emerged from her fingertips. Warmth—like the warmth around his body, warmth that lingered like a good, cozy blanket—radiated from her palms. Chikora stared right at him, the glow reflecting off her wide black eyes. “Kohltavi’s signature lingers on you, but not by much. Not like his.” The glow fainted, her hands returning to her sides. “She must’ve helped. She must’ve shown him what to do.”

“Shown who?” He felt his voice raise as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Vegeta saved you from succumbing to _dra’zela_ —‘war mind.’ It happens when a Saiyan endures too much to their mind and can happen for many reasons. Too many battles, too much stress, immeasurable loss, physiological changes, familial abuse—however it happens, it all leads to the same result. The scars never repair. They change once they awaken. Whoever they were before is gone. And you had that, Goku.” Her body began to fray on the edges of his vision. “You had the thing that eventually brought my mother’s death, and you came out fine.” A blurriness filtered soon after. Chikora looked fuzzy as she sat next to him on the bed, resting a hand on his thigh. “I know this is a lot to take in. I’m sorry I’ve overwhelmed you. But it’s not right that Vegeta didn’t tell you anything about this. You deserved to know.”

He felt his head nod, but he didn’t feel part of his body. It felt so much like before—like he felt before his long nap the day before. A nap that made him feel right the next day and clear and refreshed and warm—

Chikora squeeze his thigh. “Breathe. Squeeze your hands.”

He did. The sensation felt good. Deep breaths. Long inhale. Long, shaky exhale.

Still a blurriness. Still some fuzziness.

A few more deep, drawn out belly breaths, and he felt more ‘himself.’ More present.

Then the thoughts came, overlapped each other. Vegeta. War mind. Never supposed to recover. Never meant to. But he did. Because of Vegeta. Vegeta did it. Vegeta helped him. Vegeta had Kohltavi help him and that was why—that was—the warmth, that blanket, around him, the warmth he felt even now—

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands, pulling at the skin, up and down. “I don’t understand. I don’t get it.” Goku shook his head, then slapped his hands down to his thighs, staring at the floor. “I have so many questions. What’s umoya? How could he do this? Why didn’t he…” One hand turned into a tight, white-knuckled fist.

Chikora sighed beside him. “I don’t know, Goku. I thought when he asked for a book on umoya and r'bhon'or that he was planning on explaining to you our magic. Maybe even figure out your unique situation better.”

Goku’s jaw set firm. “Situation.”

In his purview, he caught Chikora’s deep frown. “Did Cabba not explain how he thought you two were mates? R’bhon’or? Mah’kha’or?”

He slowly shook his head no. The last two words didn’t translate well in his head. Rather than just one word, multiple words popped up. The first word: holy union. Unbreakable connection. Bond to another. The second word: Mates. Partners. Other half. Not one meaning, but multiple, and each one struck his chest like powerful blows, twisting his insides, because this was supposed to be in the past, this was already resolved, this wasn’t happening, this wasn’t _real_ —

“Umoya is the energy that lives around our bodies,” Chikora said, “versus the energy inside of us, our ki.” He focused on her voice, on her words. “It’s with umoya that we Saiyans are able to harness magic so well. I believe this roughly translates to ‘aura’ in your language. Kohltavi helped Vegeta tap into his umoya so he could heal your mind and stop _dra’zela_. I thought the fusions between you two had built some sort of faint r’bhon’or, but if he didn’t tell you, and you had no idea, then he must’ve known the truth. He must've known you two were mah’kha’or. _Real_ mah’kha’or. Else, there’s no way you would’ve survived. You wouldn’t be as you are now: completely unscathed, as if nothing happened. I know this first hand because of my mother.

“She succumbed to dra’zela about two years after the twins were born. We still don’t know why or how it happened. Sometimes it just does. Father attempted many times to save her, sharing his umoya with her more than three times a day, something that could’ve killed himself easily. It worked. After a week, she awoke, and we thought by how she initially acted that she had fully recovered. But as time went on, we saw the truth. She wasn’t the same. Dra’zela not only ravaged her mind but her body too. She didn’t talk the same way, or act the same way. She started seeing and hearing things, forgetting people and places. No one could leave her alone, else she’d potentially hurt herself by accident. And the pain she was in was astronomical. Her reflexes were shot. She often had shortness of breath and dizziness, constant nausea and swollen joints. She’d have days stuck in bed, unable to move, with complete loss of motor control, and there was nothing we could do. The damage was done.

“Mother barely made it another year before she joined our ancestors. Every day was pain for her and for us. I hated how she was a shell of her own self. I honestly had to grow up fast the day she woke up, because there was no one else to take care of father or her or the twins but me. I had to hold it all together. But I didn’t resent her at all. In her moments of clarity, when she had them, she always said she loved us very much, but hated how she burdened us, in particular me. She knew, and all I wanted was for her pain to go away. The day she passed was a blessing. It was hard, yes, watching her go, but it was time. She was finally at peace. I do miss her, as do the twins, but we are not like father. He never got over her death, nor his guilt over it. That’s because the only ones who can return and recover from dra’zela fully are those who are mah’kha’or and possess r’bhon’or.

“Mother was his ‘urave.’ It translates to ‘only royalty,’ which generally means that while they were not mates, my father decreed her as part of his family with the title. That meant she was only be perceived as royalty and nothing else. She was not to be treated unfairly or poorly because she wasn’t his true mate. But because she was only ‘urave,’ they didn’t have the r’bhon’or, which meant that father couldn’t share all of his umoya to soothe and save her own. He tried the best he could with Kohltavi’s help, and it did work, but it didn’t save her completely. As hard as it was taking care of her, I am grateful for the extra time we did have with her. But father still blames himself, thinking if he had only forced a r’bhon’or, he could’ve saved her. But you can’t force that. Only true mah’kha’or can possess a r’bhon’or. No magic in the world can begin it. I thought the fusions could’ve, because of what Vegeta said, but that’s not the case here.

“When Vegeta asked for clarification on umoya, I thought it was so he could understand the mistake Cabba made. Those in the Sadalan Defense Forces possess general control of Saiyan magic and can detect and see the umoya of other living beings. We royals go a step beyond. Not only can we sense it and see it, but we can manipulate it well. Each umoya has its own distinct colors. Yours, for example, shines like a sun, full of various shades of yellow, orange and gold. But your umoya is tainted by another’s. Not just the edges, but fully intertwined. After speaking with Vegeta and learning you two used magic—these fusions—I thought that was the reason why your umoya’ir were still mingled so well together. It was a false mah’kha’or. It’d eventually go away.

“But Goku.” Her hand rested over his tight fist on his thigh. “You recovered. Your mind, your umoya—it’s like nothing happened.” She squeezed it. “And there’s only one reason why it happened.”

Goku stared at the floor. Listened to his tempered, loud breathing. Felt Chikora’s hand. The clothes he wore. The stone under his boots.

Nothing in his head. No thoughts. No words.

Slowly, he stood up. Chikora’s hand slipped away.

He walked to the window. Blue sky. Cloudless. There were Saiyans below, but he couldn’t hear them. Couldn’t hear the sounds of the bazaar.

His jaw hurt from clenching. It felt good too, that hurt. Feeling something. Feeling anything, because all over, he felt numb, out of his body, out of control, and the slight pain in his jaw grounded him.

Big inhale. Hold. Big long, shaky exhale.

Both of his hands turned to tight, shaking fists, by his sides.

“I knew it,” Goku whispered. “I knew something was wrong.”

From behind him, Chikora said, “I’m sorry you had to find about all of this from me and not him.”

He closed his eyes.

Instinct dictated he say thanks, say no problem, scratch the back of his head, laugh it off, chuckle a little, tell her it was fine, it’s okay, it’s how Vegeta was, he’ll talk to him, it was probably a misunderstanding, has to be another reason, has to be—because there was no way it could be, no way at all it was what Chikora said.

Rustling of clothes. Footsteps clicked on the stone flooring, walking to the opposite end of the room, away from him.

The squeak of the door opening. “When Vegeta is done with father, I’ll let him know you need to speak to him,” Chikora said.

Goku nodded.

A soft shut of wood, the door knob slightly rattling.

He focused on his breathing—every inhale, every exhale—as he stood in front of the mirror, clearing his mind of all thoughts, all emotions. Meditating. Waiting.

***

An hour later, he felt Vegeta’s ki leave the proximity of the King’s. Goku waited until he could feel Vegeta come near Chikora, and it wasn’t long until the two ki’s met. Then Vegeta walked away, walked closer towards his direction—and he growled when he felt the man’s ki head east, not south. Not towards him anymore. He waited a few moments, waited for the ki to turn back, waited to see if Vegeta would do what Chikora said, what Goku asked, and his fists shook against his sides when Vegeta did none of that. The man kept walking in a direction away from him until it stopped somewhere near the palace, not inside.

He pressed two fingers to his forehead, locking onto Vegeta’s ki. A moment later, he transmissioned himself outside into a garden hosting exotic, weird looking flowers and colorful, strangely shaped trees. Multiple water features littered the grounds, the sound of running water filtering out what sounded like birds chirping. The palace walls enclosed the area, similar to the training grounds, but the garden was much smaller in size and depth. No other Saiyan ki registered in this area. None but one.

Goku dropped his hand to his side, staring right at Vegeta’s back In the middle of this oasis.

Vegeta stood cross-armed before a large tree, similar to a weeping willow, but colored in shades of grey and purple. Only the branches looked normal with its deep, dark brown tint. His red cape billowed a little in the light gusts of wind around them. 

“Hello Kakarot,” Vegeta said.

“What did you do with Kohltavi?” His hands hurt recoiling into fists again. “And don’t lie to me because Chikora told me everything. Ooo-moy-aah, the ree-boh-ner, mah-eh-ka-hor _and_ dre-zah-leh. The war mind. She said there was no way you could’ve saved me, if we weren’t mates. So I need to know what you did with her, if you learned anything that I should know about, because if what Chikora says is true, then I deserve to know.”

The tree’s branches rustled in time with Vegeta’s cape. Water trickled on in the background.

Slowly, Vegeta unfurled his arms.

Goku heard and watched his deep sigh, his head tilting down.

“She is correct,” Vegeta said. “We… are mates.”

“And that’s how you were able to stop the war mind thing I had. With Kohltavi’s help.”

Vegeta nodded.

“Did she know about the ree-boh-ner?”

“R’bhon’or. I do not know. Our umoya’ir were too interwoven to distinguish if it was real or not.”

“But it is real, isn’t it? Since I’m here.”

Vegeta nodded again.

Goku sighed, running a hand over his face and his hair, landing it right behind his head. He glanced away from Vegeta to scratch his nails deep into his scalp, close to his old bump, the scar there.

Another large gust of wind. He stared at the trees before him moving as one unit.

Then, he whispered, “Dammit, Vegeta.” His attention returned to Vegeta’s back, sliding his hand out of his hair. “I’m glad you helped me, but this ree-bon-her has to go. We can’t be confusing people with our auras all mixed up. The royal family knows we’re not mates, but everyone else—they look at the thing around us and they get the wrong idea. Again, I’m glad whatever you did helped, but I really would’ve liked if you had told me personally, instead of me finding out from Chikora.” His hands unfurled as he gesticulated his words, taking a step closer to Vegeta. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. Why did I have to go find out about this stuff from someone else, when you knew this entire time? Are you really that embarrassed of me? Did you not think I would understand the whole mates thing? I get it, Vegeta, I do. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about us too! I wouldn’t have judged you for using that ree-bon-er thing to help me. I actually really, really appreciate that you wanted to help me from this dra-zee-leh thing.” He stopped a foot away from Vegeta. “But when are you finally going to trust me? What else do I have to do to earn your trust?”

Vegeta turned his head slightly to the side, where he could see a part of Vegeta’s chin, cheek and the corner of his lips. If he hadn’t been so close, and if he hadn’t seen some of Vegeta’s mouth, Goku would’ve missed the small whisper Vegeta released.

“I trust you, Kakarot,” he said.

“Then you should’ve told me as soon as I woke up. Or maybe before last night’s ceremony.” He gestured with his hands again. “Something. Anything. I don’t know, but just—Vegeta, you need to do better.”

“I am sorry.”

“And that’s another thing!” Goku put his hands onto his hips. “You’ve been acting really, really nice around me, and that’s not you.” He shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s not nice, because I do like it, but you don’t go around saying you’re sorry, or thanks, or anything, well, nice to someone, especially not me.” He tilted his head to the side. “Is that the ree-boh-ner? Did that change you in some way?”

The corner of Vegeta’s lips curled up. “In a way, yes.”

“Like, a lot?”

“You could say that.”

“Oh jeez.” Goku scratched the side of his cheek with a finger, frowning. “I’m sorry about that, Vegeta. You shouldn’t have to go through this just because of that dra-zee-ler thing. But hey—” He broke into a wide grin, spreading his arms wide open. “I’m all better now, so let’s go to Kohltavi’s together and get rid of this ree-boh-ner thing, yeah? Then you’ll be back to normal and no one will get the wrong idea anymore!”

Vegeta turned his head away. “I did that already.”

He blinked once. “Oh.” His arms slowly rested by his side as he said, “Did she get rid of it?”

Goku felt the world tilt when Vegeta said, “She could’ve.” Following it up with a small shrug. “I refused.”

His mouth fell wide open. The ground seemed to give way under him, because everything felt wrong, weird, skewed and twisted up.

He blinked once. Twice.

“You…” He felt his hands twitch by his side. “You refused?” His voice picked up volume. “You REFUSED? Why?!”

Vegeta sounded so nonchalant. “It’s what I truly needed.”

“You NEEDED it? For what?! What—what are you—” His twitching hands flew to his hair, sinking in and pulling. “This can’t be happening.” He felt like an earthquake, or a volcano. “No.” His vision shook. “No way.” His whole body. “No. No no no.” He forced his hands out of his hair, walking around Vegeta to face him. “You gotta go back to her. We gotta go back to her! She has to fix this!” He stood before him, in front of the tree. “Chikora said only mates have this ree-boh-ner thing—”

“R’bhon’or.”

“—and we aren’t real mates! We can’t be mates! You don’t even like me that way—”

Vegeta tilted his head up and met his line of sight.

Goku froze in place.

Black eyes that usually held contempt, derision, a little bit of disgust and a little bit of bemusement possessed none of it now. They held nothing he could figure out, nothing discernable Goku could name, but they looked different. They seemed… softer. Less of a hard edge.

His smile completed that unknown look. Small, sweet, a little amused and a little exasperated—like the one Vegeta sported the night before, and that time at Chikora’s that same day, when he talked about his parents. After certain spars. During the Tournament of Power. After Buu.

A smile that matched the warmth radiating from Vegeta. Warmth that encircled Goku’s whole body. Warmth that told the story along with Vegeta’s look and Goku shook his head no, taking a step away from Vegeta, then another, and another, until his back hit the base of the large tree. 

It was right there. Right in front of him, staring right at him, and Goku couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop his hands from reaching back into his hair, couldn’t look away from Vegeta as much as he wanted to, because the evidence, the honesty, the truth of the situation, of what Vegeta said, of what Vegeta did—it was all there, and it was real. It was actually real.

Vegeta _did_ like him that way.

“But—but you can’t!” His breathing turned erratic. “I can’t! We can’t!” His heartbeat drummed in his head. “What about Bulma? What about Chichi? What about your kids? Our kids?” He yanked his hands out of his hair, throwing them towards Vegeta in front of him. “Why didn’t you break this r—rehbeh—reeboh— _ugh,_ this damn bond between us?”

“She offered. I said no.”

“This is stupid!” He pointed at Vegeta. “ _You’re_ stupid!” He forced himself away from the tree, his attention solely on the dirt ground as he walked away. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t right. You can’t like me. You never would—you wouldn’t—wait.” He stopped, jerking his head upright. He turned back to Vegeta. “It has to be the bond thing, right? The umoyas—”

“Umoya’ir.”

“Yeah, that, that’s gotta be it, yes? That’s gotta be the reason why you’re feeling this way about me, right?”

For a moment, Vegeta looked almost normal. That look, that smile, they went away, but the sincerity, the sweetness in his voice—that said it all.

“I’m sorry I held the truth from you,” Vegeta said.

“UGH!” He rubbed at his clammy face, chanting into his palms, “This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening. This can’t be happening, it can’t be happening, it can’t, you can’t—” He groaned again, meeting Vegeta’s eye again. “You can’t like me, you like Bulma. Hell, you love Bulma!”

“Yes, I do. She is my urave—” That damned look and damned smile returned three-fold. “And you are my mah’kha.”

“Stop it!” Goku slapped his hands over his ears, turning his back to Vegeta. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”

Even muffled, Goku heard Vegeta loud and clear. “I speak the truth, and now that I know the truth, I won’t go back. I refuse.” That voice reached closer to him. “That is what I thanked the goddesses for last night, for guiding me to my mah’kha. What Kohltavi showed me, what I saw and learned—” Vegeta’s ki, his warmth, right behind him now. His soft whisper. “That will forever be my most precious memory.”

Goku walked a few feet away from that ki and that warmth. He rubbed at his face again, shaking his head a few times. His body still shook. The ground still felt uneven and wrong. Everything around him felt off and wrong and weird.

And yet his heart—his heart _cried_ —

“No.” He forced his arms back to his sides. “No, Vegeta.” They turned back into tight, aching fists as he turned his attention to the cloudless sky above. “I’m going to go to Kohltavi’s right now and I’m going to have her break this bond thing between us and fix our umoya’ir. Because you’re clearly not in the right mind and I have to stop this before you do something you regret.”

He steeled himself for an attack, physical and verbal. He readied his mind and his body for whatever Vegeta would do or say. Anticipated a blow, a hit to the head, a shout or a scream to his back, a cry or a growl.

Instead, Vegeta said, “If that is what you wish.”

Goku turned around.

Vegeta stood a few feet away from the tree, in the exact same spot Goku stood in, his arms resting by his sides, unfurled and relaxed.

“You really won’t stop me?” Goku asked. “Or hate me because I’m putting an end to this bond?”

“It is what you wish. I will respect and honor it.”

He stared at Vegeta for a few moments, searching for a lie, a giveaway to truth. But there was none he could see. Only sincerity. Peace.

Vegeta was truly okay with this.

Goku felt his heart _scream_ at him, tightening up and twisting up inside, and he forced that hurt into the back of his mind, because it had to be done. It was the right thing to do.

He turned away from him to look back at the sky. “I’ll see ya later, Vegeta.”

“Goodbye Kakarot.”

Goku jerked back around, looking at Vegeta’s retreating form, walking further out into the gardens. “Don’t talk like that. We’re still friends and we always will be. Okay?”

“Hn.” Vegeta nodded. “Understood.”

He waited until he saw the last of Vegeta’s red cape before he turned back around and flared up his ki, shooting up into the air and out to the center of the planet.

***

Finding the temple during the daylight proved to be very helpful. Without the stone to guide the way, it took Goku a while to remember where exactly Kohltavi’s place rested. But with the sun out in full force and no clouds in the sky, Goku could search through the thickets of trees nestled in the planet’s mountain ranges. He wasn’t sure how long it took to find the peak of marble from under a few branches and leaves, but he sighed in relief when he did.

“Kohltavi!” He descended through the trees, the temple coming into clear view. “I know you’re in there!” The building grew in size until it towered over him, the marble shining in the bright sunlight. “Open up Kohltavi!” Dust kicked up as he zoomed over to where he thought the entrance was, peeking through the vines for a possible door. “Come on, you gotta help me!”

“Why would I do that, Saiyan?” He whipped around, finding Kohltavi as he did the first time he met her: standing cross-armed in purple harem pants and top, the ruby at the end of her nose ring sparkling. “I’ve already given what you sought.”

He landed on the ground. “You have to break the ree-boh-oh-neer.”

“R’bhon’or.” She shook her head, the sight punching Goku in the gut. “And I cannot do that. Not anymore.” She walked over towards him. “Soli’s holy week concluded last night. My powers are not strong enough to undo the solid r’bhon’or between you and Prince Vegeta.” She stood before him, looking up. “You must wait a full year for that.”

He shouted, “A YEAR?!”

She nodded.

His hands flew to his head. Kohltavi shook in his vision. Her words kept punching him as gravity settled onto his shoulders. A whole year. Stuck with Vegeta. Stuck like this.

“What am I going to do?” Unsteady whisper. As unstable as he felt. “We can’t stay like this.”

“Is it so bad to be bound to him?” She tilted her head. “To a prince who cares for you deeply?”

“He can’t, Kohltavi!” Goku shouted. “He has a wife and kids and so do I!”

“Yes, his urave and yours as well.”

“No, not oo-reh-vee, wife, I have a wife! I made a promise to her as kids and we got married and I can’t go liking someone else, it’s not right! Chichi told me so!”

She smirked. “A promise based on falsehood, _k’ne_?”

Goku opened his mouth—and quickly shut it. His lips formed a thin line, his jaw firm. Yelling what his mind told him to say— _that’s not true_ —would’ve been a lie, and Kohltavi hated lies.

Kohltavi chuckled. “So you’ve learned.”

“I still love her,” he sneered.

“Yes, n’dra’ge, you do. Because you think you know love and what it entails.” Her smirk disappeared. “But I have seen your mind and your memories, and you know nothing. You say you love her, yet you cannot distinguish between your love of her with your love of food.”

“That’s not true!”

“Is it? You know I speak no lies.” She closed the gap between them. “You love everything equally—food, fighting, people, places, men and women alike. You care nothing about what a person looks like or what they identify as, only how they act as people. Your wife gives you a warm meal, a clean home, a soft body to hold at night and children you love and hold dear. All because you kept that promise to her, without knowing what marriage really was. An honorable yet foolish decision. What you have with her is a type of love, yes. I will not deny that.” Her voice lowered. “But you know it isn’t what you seek, nor what you need.”

His heart punched his chest, twisting up inside.

Goku winced, and against his will, one of his hands flew up to it, pressing down hard.

He could hear it, a small voice, screaming at him from a far away void, _yes, yes, yes_ , followed by images of Vegeta—in the white light from last night, his hand on his lower back, his smile, that look, his fingers brushing his forehead, his words as he calmed him from that nightmare, his arms wrapped around him as he cried into his shoulder, his thumbs up after Buu, his cry to him during the Tournament of Power as he fought Jiren, his smirk as they fought Moro—and his vision blurred over, his stomach churned, his throat burned, because his heart screamed as loud as it could, but the heaviness, the weight of guilt, of the wrongness—it swallowed him whole, shooting him into a pit of darkness, all from his mind, all from his brain telling him _no, not right, not okay, not happening, not real, not real._

The creak of double doors opening caused Goku startle in place, his thoughts ceasing. Kohltavi passed by him, entering the temple, now donning a long purple silk robe, the ends dragging around her.

“Rada, n’dra’ge,” she said. Come, _brave one_.

He turned around and followed behind her, past the golden doors that pressed against the many vines and flora wrapped around the entire massive temple. Unlike last time, the interior was completely different. It wasn’t as Spartan or bare as before. Now it looked like what Goku assumed a holy Saiyan temple would look like. Torches lit the large slabs of marble walls. Gold and silver and jewels accented the stone floors. Even though it was daylight outside, lit candles rested on window sills, on tables, at mantles and shelves planted in different sections of the vast temple. He took in a deep breath and smiled at the scent of herbs that were scattered across the interior, an image of his mother hitting his mind and his nervousness faded for a moment.

In the middle of the room stood a large golden altar. A stream of sunlight from a hole in the ceiling above it caused it to glitter and shine. Kohltavi stood at one end and she gestured him to come forward. He complied, coming closer, until he stood right against the opposite edge.

“Kneel before the holy altar of the warrior goddess,” she said.

He hesitated for a moment, his lips curling into a frown. A stern look from Kohltavi was all he needed in order to obey her request, falling down to one knee, and for good measure, bowing his head in respect.

Above him, Kohltavi said. “Repeat after me, Kakarot. M’eh ku’pham ni inyo’ku cha’ir Soli ni Tor.” _I fall before the feet of the great goddesses Soli and Tor._

The words made perfect sense in his head, the delivery almost lyrical. Outwardly, they sounded downright terrible. “Mee-eh kuu-phan nee in-you-ko cha’ir Soli nee Tor.”

“Isik’ho yi Saiyan nu’or ukuwene.” _Guide this Saiyan to the path he truly seeks._

He winced at every word he said. “Ee-seek-ho yee Saiyan new-or ew-kew-wee-neh.”

“T’au’he kufu’ni inqua’o ez’cha’ir, Kakarot.” _You have invoked the vessel of these goddesses, Kakarot._ “What do you seek?”

“To break the… uhhh, r’bhon’or?” He lifted his head for a brief moment, his lips caught in his teeth. Palpable relief washed over him at the sight of Kohltavi’s amused smile and her subsequent affirming nod. He bowed his head again and said with confidence, “To break the r’bhon’or between Vegeta and I.”

“Why do you seek this, Saiyan?”

“Because we are not mates. Our… umoya’ir?” He peaked up and smiled when she nodded again, then returned his attention back to the floor. “Our umoya’ir mixed after multiple fusions together. Vegeta isn’t himself anymore. I seek to fix this.”

Rustling of clothes. A bowl landed on a hard surface. “I only help Saiyans once.” Another bowl. “Give praise to Soli that I find you two fascinating.” More rustling. The edges of her robe brushed against the ground. “Arise, Kakarot.”

When he came to his feet, he found on top of the gold slab between them two brown bowls. One was full of a sparkling dark purple liquid, its inky color similar to a starry night on Mount Paozu. Beside each bowl rested a stone that matched in color, glittering in the sunlight from the hole above. But the other bowl contained nothing inside. It was empty.

She gestured to the bowl on the left. “This was the answer you came for, but as I said, my powers cannot break the r’bhon’or.”

“But—”

“It cannot be done, and you don’t need it broken. A false mah’kha’or can spark a false r’bhon’or, which brings out unwanted feelings of affection that clearly change the other person, as if they were lovesick. But neither you nor Vegeta showcased those signs. A true r’bhon’or created between two Saiyans doesn’t affect your feelings one way or the other. You are still yourselves. Nothing changes. The only thing that is new is the r’bhon’or.”

“So…” He frowned. “Why is Vegeta acting all nice and stuff to me?”

“Because you are his mah’kha.”

Goku groaned, slapping his forehead. “And I’m telling you, Kohltavi—” He slid his hand down his face, then gestured to her. “We can’t _be_ that.”

“Love is a choice, Kakarot,” she said. “You chose to honor your woman’s promise. You chose to marry her. You chose to have a family with her and to live with her. She has purpose, importance and meaning in your life, and you chose to interpret that as love. And it is an aspect of it, truly. What you feel for her is valid. But you know what she really means to you, as Vegeta does with his urave.” Her hands glowed, radiating familiar warmth, as she folded them one over the other and hovered them over the purple liquid. She closed her eyes, continuing, “When a Saiyan meets their mah’kha, they realize they don’t choose this love, because it’s been destined for them, as it has been for us all. Our _mah’kha’or esh t’air_. Bound by the soul.” The light faded as soon as it arrived. She unfolded her hands, resting them palm down on either side of the filled bowl. “But you can choose to reject it. You can choose to fight it.” She lifted her head, staring right at Goku. “Fate and destiny have no say over love, because love is still a choice. Love is still work. Just because you are destined to someone doesn’t mean they are the right one for you. It’s why I am able to break _r’bhon’ora_ for certain Saiyan couples, because Soli knows what love really means. You can fight fate. Your life, and your love, is yours alone to give.”

Goku’s eyes widened, her words illuminating a piece of hope from deep inside. “You’re saying I don’t have to do anything with Vegeta.”

“Aiii.” _Yes._

“I can just go on living, be with Chichi, and nothing has to change with Vegeta and me.”

“Not at all.”

He felt his lips twitch upwards. “I don’t have to do anything.” Relief flooded his senses. “I can just go back and tell Vegeta no and everything will be okay.”

“Aiii, Kakarot. Everything will be as it was.” She leaned forward, her eyes taking a subtle purple hue, and Goku’s smile petered off as she said, “But is that what you truly _need?_ ”

“Ah—”

“And do not lie to me, or I will banish you for good.”

“I wasn’t—I—” Goku shut his mouth. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath and then said, “Banish me if you want. I got what I came for.”

“That you did.” She smirked. “But you did not answer my question.”

“I don’t have to answer it.”

“Does your heart agree?”

The treacherous scream returned, a sharp stabbing pain striking across his chest and up his throat, stinging his eyes. He hissed through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his shaking hands to stay by his sides, working through the hurt, the endless punches to his insides.

Behind the darkness of his lids, he heard Kohltavi say, “Search deep within yourself, Saiyan and answer me well. Is this what you truly need?”

He pushed the base of his palms to his eyes. A kaleidoscope of orange and yellow burst forward, filling the darkness. The ache didn’t taper off. The hurt didn’t go away. It stayed, swallowing all of his guts, all of his lungs, the entirety of his heart, and it hurt to breathe, it hurt to stand, it hurt—and yet, it was right. It was the right choice. It was the good choice. Chichi said so. Chichi told him what marriage really was and he took his promises seriously.

But in the colors swirling all around him, he saw Vegeta. His smirk. Standing by his side. Fighting with him and fighting along side him. Pushing him. Reprimanding him. Encouraging him. Holding him. Quiet understanding. Reserved, poised, controlled and impassive, but that look, that damned look from the gardens, and those touches to his forehead—

Goku slammed his hands onto the gold tabletop. Cracks formed under his palms. Liquid sloshed around. The empty bowl clattered to the stone ground.

“I don’t know anymore,” he whispered aloud. “I just don’t know.”

In his vision, Kohltavi’s wrinkled hands appeared, resting on top of his. He didn’t resist as her fingers wrapped around each one and pulled his hands forward, placing them around the wooden bowl with the purple liquid. “Drink this. Even though Tor abhors the likes of you, she won’t turn away a lost Saiyan.”

He picked it up. The liquid shined like a sea of stars. It looked inviting, beautiful. Like the stars of his memories and the stars of the planet Sadala at night. “What is it?” Goku asked.

“A gift. The same I gave Vegeta.”

“What’s it going to do to me?”

“Show you what you need, not what you want.”

He brought it closer to his lips. “I shouldn’t.” The liquid sloshed around. “I know—I know what to do.” The bowl grazed his lips. “I don’t—I can’t—”

“Let Tor help you, Kakarot,” Kohltavi said. Over the top rim of the bowl, her smile looked as warm and as inviting as the liquid did. “Let her guide you to what you need.”

Goku shut his eyes as he parted his lips, tilting the bowl in his trembling hands.

He remembered the words everyone chanted last night. Uzko du Soli. Glory to Soli. Tor vuma uthi’ho. Tor be praised. As the cool, flavorless liquid ran down his throat, he thought of those words—thought of Tor, the warrior goddess he barely had any idea of—and repeated that phrase again and again in his mind. Tor vuma uthi’ho. Tor vuma uthi’ho.

In the darkness of his lids, he saw Vegeta’s smirk, heard his growls, felt his strong arms holding him tight. The smile from the garden, the smile after Buu. The way he looked as he danced the echu batwa. The way he looked in the white light. How soft and soothing his fingertips felt on his forehead. How comforted he felt when Vegeta insisted he stayed the night, and was still there in the morning. The warmth he generated. The warmth around him.

_Vegeta…_

Then it all went dark.

The bowl tipped out of his hands, landing on the ground with a loud _clang_. Goku’s body collapsed right beside it, falling onto his side.

Kohltavi knelt beside him on the ground and waited.

***

Floating. Goku floated in endless darkness. He attempted to find his limbs, his own sense of self, but he saw nothing but pitch blackness around him. Fear warred with curiosity in his mind as he tempered his breathing, focusing on every inhale and exhale in this void of nothingness.

No one around him. Nothing to see. No idea where he was, or how he got here, only that the flavorless, cool liquid must’ve done something, and now he was somewhere. No other ki around. Nothing to feel, nothing to understand, no control over what to do. But he stayed as calm as possible. He felt warm, at least, that warmth he now appreciated. 

A sharp smell of herbs hit him. Goku turned—what he felt was like turning—in the direction he sensed it coming from.

It intensified. Stronger. Familiar. He willed his body to move, to come closer to it, somehow, and it did. The smell of herbs increased, reaching closer, coming to him.

Gentle fingertips grazed his cheek.

Goku jerked back, startled.

The fingertips returned, even gentler than before, and he stayed still as they danced over his skin. Over his forehead. His nose. His chin. Exploring. Almost memorizing.

They retreated away, lingering for the briefest of seconds, before disappearing.

Then he heard it.

_Kakarot…_

Her voice.

_My Kakarot…_

Her beautiful, sweet, loving voice.

His lips formed her name, and he managed to whisper out into the darkness, “Na’ma.”

Silver light burst throughout the darkness like a raging supernova. Goku rose his arms to cover his vision. After a moment, his eyelids fluttered open, blinking away the blinding light.

A murky image of his mother, Gine, waited for him in the darkness. It floated like he did, the edges of the image melting and swirling. She looked tired, beyond exhausted, her hair wild and her Saiyan armor dented and dirty, but a wide grin graced her pale features.

Beside her, his father, Bardock, appeared, his smile not as wide, but just as sweet and awed. He took looked exhausted, his own armor broken on an edge, his face and arms cut up and bloodied here and there. But the obvious fatigue didn’t stop him from cupping his mother’s face in his palms and kissing her with a passion Goku had never seen before in his life.

More images popped up beside them, framing their kiss. Images of his parents laughing together, his injured father picking up his mother from a battlefield, his father in a healing tank while his mother watched on. Images of his parents watching a sunset together, his mother cooking while his father read, his father stuffing himself with food in a way that matched his own, while his mother looked on, pleased as punch. Images of them kissing. Images of them hugging each other tight. Images of them staring at one another with such passion, it almost took his breath away.

As one, the images all melted away.

Then another popped up soon after in its place. His parents again, standing under a beautiful sunset, dressed in new Saiyan armor. But now his mother wore a crown comprised of vines, flowers and herbs, things he found in Kohltavi’s temple. His father sported a thick gold chain around his neck. He looked terrified but excited. His mother too. A woman in similar clothing to Kohltavi’s stood between them, chanting words he didn’t understand. But the way they looked at each other—how they squeezed their hands—how they smiled—Goku knew what this was. What he was witnessing.

They separated from each other for a moment, before opposite palm touched opposite palm. The woman wrapped a red cloth with gold trimmings around their hands, whispering more foreign words. Words his mother and father mimicked. She stepped back, and in perfect unity, they walked in a circle, eyes never tearing away from the other, speaking more of these words he wished he understood, but the way they were delivered—the sincerity, the emotion in them—his lips curled into a smile at the same time as his guts twisted and his throat closed up.

When they stopped circling, they leaned in, the sunset strong behind them. The image pulled back, and he found a few Saiyans there, watching his parents, chanting along with the woman between them. Crying out to Soli. He heard the well wishes, the joy and the excitement, and Goku almost joined in, before he remembered where he was and what this was.

The image disappeared as they kissed.

One by one, more images appeared, but not of his father or his mother. He felt himself turn around, observing every image of him with Chichi. Them meeting as children. Meeting at the Tenkaichi Budokai. Fighting each other. Chichi telling him his promise. Going on adventures with her. His first kiss with her. Their wedding, how she looked nice in that dress, how uncomfortable he felt in his suit, how good the food was, how new it all felt. How weird, but okay, because it was a promise he was keeping, and she promised she’d teach him, and he was willing to learn. But that passion he saw before, that sincerity, from his parents—it wasn’t there with Chichi. He didn’t see it, didn’t feel it.

More images popped up. Moving to Mount Paozu. Their first fumblings in bed, Chichi as nervous as he was, but she led him through it all, teaching him along the way, showing him what to do, showing him what could be done, showing him it was okay, that it was more than okay to do this together and to feel this way, and it did feel nice, it did feel okay, she felt nice and she smelled good too. Chichi telling him she was pregnant. Chichi giving birth to Gohan. How nice it was, having Chichi around, having Gohan to play with. The old feelings from then rose up in him—the nervousness, the excitement, the joy and the contentment he felt then—and it felt like putting on old shoes or an old hat. He knew these feelings, these sensations. He knew what these felt like, what this all was.

And yet…

The images encircled all around him. Images of Chichi now. Images of Chichi then. Images of Chichi cooking, Chichi telling Gohan to go study, Chichi telling him to go work in the fields, Chichi’s long black hair fanned out over a pillow, Chichi smiling at him, Chichi laughing, Chichi angry at him for some reason, Chichi sighing in exhaustion, Chichi giggling.

Images that were familiar, and nice, and good. Images that were sweet, and comforting, and… good.

And that was it. That was just… it.

One by one, the images faded away, until Goku stood in the darkness, alone.

He hugged himself tight, fingers digging in.

His eyes burned. His face burned.

A warmth radiated from behind him. A familiar warmth.

Goku turned around.

Vegeta stood before him, dressed in his armor and his red cape, the purple stone draped around his neck. His body glowed all over in a warm silver light, similar to the light of Ultra Instinct, but he wasn’t in that form. He stayed in his base form, his normal self, and he looked just like he did back in the gardens, with that weird look that he now had a name for and that smile he also had a name for too.

The warmth from Vegeta felt nice. He itched to reach for it, for him, but he forced his hands to stay still, to stay around his torso, to keep his fingers right where his biceps were and not let go.

One step at a time, Vegeta closed the gap between them. The warmth he generated grew, and grew, and grew, until Goku felt no more coldness, saw little to no blackness. All he saw was that silver glow and all he felt was that warmth from Vegeta.

Slowly, Vegeta lifted one gloved hand to him.

Goku stared at it and caught in his vision a glow around the bottom of his shoes—different shoes. Sadalan shoes. Black jumpsuit. Sadalan armor instead of orange gi, glowing a soothing golden light. He glanced at his legs, his pelvis, unfurled his arms and checked his hands. That golden light was everywhere, as if he was in Super Saiyan, but he wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t.

He looked back to Vegeta, to his hand, then back to Vegeta. That silver glow around him invited him, beckoned him over, and he almost did. He almost gave in. But then he noticed the difference. It wasn’t a pure silver anymore, but a perfect swirl of colors. A perfect, immaculate pairing of gold, silver and every shade between them. As if it was always like this, always meant to be.

A swirl of colors that his own glow matched now.

Goku shook his head no.

Vegeta still smiled. Still held out his hand to him. The colors, the implication, the glow, the images, his parents, Chichi, Vegeta, that passion, that intimacy, the want and the need and how foreign and weird it felt to him and how he could see it, he could see all of that with him, with—

His vision blurred. His body shook.

The world tilted when he heard Vegeta say with passion, “M’yo mah’kha.”

My mate.

Then he knew. He saw it, right there, clear as day. He labeled that look, that smile, everything Vegeta embodied in this place, in this moment, with the right word.

Adoration. Complete adoration, for him.

Endless amounts of understanding and compassion.

Those eyes, this person. They knew him. Vegeta knew him.

Vegeta actually—he _actually_ —

Goku slapped Vegeta’s gloved hand away.

Silver light broke the darkness.

Before him, Vegeta melted away like the images before.

The light burned and blinded. He tumbled into the silver light, falling and spinning out of control. A light that burned, that ached, an abyss of silver that pushed Goku down, down, down and it was so like then, with his memories, but different. That light hurt too but this one was different, this one—his brain screamed like his heart to stop this, all of this, but there was nothing he could do but endure it. Things turned, tilted and warped, his body in constant free fall. Pain filtered through all of his senses as the heat intensified and the light never stopped. It never—

He gasped, shooting himself upright from the ground.

Gentle hands on his back, between his shoulder blades, steadied him. Holding him in place.

“Breathe, Kakarot.” Kohltavi. Kohltavi’s voice. “Breathe.”

Labored breathing. His own labored, wet, heavy breathing.

Slowly, the temple returned to his vision. Wherever he was, whatever happened to get him there, it was gone, done with. He was back on Sadala, back in the temple. He focused on his breath, focused on Kohltavi’s hand circling and running up and down his back, and he started to feel more in control, more like himself, more part of the world around him. But his hands stung. His hands hurt and itched.

Goku stared down at his palms. At the hand he smacked Vegeta’s with.

He could still feel Vegeta. He could still feel everything. Remember everything.

A large part of him screamed to return to that world, to go back, to right the wrong he made, to accept what he saw and what he felt and know it was true. But the other part, the one he listened to, told him it wasn’t real, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true, it just _couldn’t_ —and yet—and _yet_ —

He buried his face into his hands, gritting his teeth.

Beside him, Kohltavi said, “I wish I could say you will win it all.”

Goku slid his hands away. They flopped between his open legs. His body hunched over, the weight of her words, the war in his mind, the scream in his heart, his parents, Vegeta—and he sighed, pushing himself up to his feet.

Kohltavi steadied him, her wrinkled hand staying against the middle of his upper back. “I am sorry, n’dra’ge.”

He kept his back to her, staring ahead. His breathing tempered out to a normal pace, until he let in a large amount of air, held it, and then exhaled it through his mouth. It almost sounded like a resigned sigh.

“I need to go think,” Goku said. He placed two, slightly wobbly fingers to his forehead. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Thank the goddesses.” Her hand slipped away. “May they bless and guide you in your time of need.”

He nodded once. A moment later, he transmissoned out of the temple.

Kohltavi stared in the direction he disappeared. She then pulled out from under her robe the white stone that hung around her neck. She cupped it in both of her hands, a warm glow illuminating her features, and she bowed her head, closing her eyes.

Ancient Sadalan words spilled out of her, the soft whispers echoing in the empty temple. She ended the prayer with a kiss to the stone, then stared ahead, a tired sigh escaping from her dry lips.

“The rest is up to you, Kakarot,” she said, turning away. “Choose wisely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAN this was a tough one to get out. Hope to get Part 8 out soon. (And I can't believe I've gotten this far, wee!)


	8. Chapter 8

Goku didn’t show up to dinner that evening. He opted to devour as much as possible from the cafeteria instead. When a servant came by his room later and asked if he was joining, he said no and that was it. No push back. He spent the evening alone in that room, either people watching from the window, meditating or performing katas. Much to his relief, his ki didn’t spike when he performed those katas. It stayed neutral, in control. On occasion, he checked up on Vegeta’s ki, on where it was within the palace, and not once did that ki gravitate towards his chambers. Part of him sighed in relief. The other part yearned to talk to him, to tell Vegeta what he went through, what he saw. But it wasn’t time yet. He didn’t feel ready. There was too much to process first.

Thinking this much didn’t feel good or right. It was a lot. He didn’t like thinking this much about things in general. He was very much a do now, think later person, his gut and his intuition guiding his decisions more than his brain. The only times when he thought really hard were on the battlefield, and even then, he trusted his gut more than his head. His gut told him all he needed to know and care about. But this—this thing with Vegeta, the mate thing, the r’bhon’or, what happened at Kohltavi’s—he needed to do this. It was important. He had to think over everything he went through in that temple, in that weird dark place.

But it hurt, thinking that much. It tired him out like a hard spar did. Anytime he stood somewhere or sat down on the bed to think—Vegeta, Chichi, Kohltavi’s words, his mother, his father—a headache soon popped up, starting from the back of his head, right where his old scar rested, and it pulsed and ached throughout. Meditating helped stave off those pounding headaches. So did moving in his katas. Then he’d go back to thinking, and thinking, until the headache returned and he had to do something again to stop it.

A decision had to be made, and it was going to be tough, no matter what he chose. Goku knew that. Whatever he decided would be final. There were some nice thoughts, at least, mainly when he thought of his parents. It was really nice that he got to see more of his parents and how they interacted together. They really did love each other and acted like Goku thought two people in love would act. They almost reminded him of his time with Chichi. But the stark difference in emotion—the passion, the yearning and the need—that stuck with him, hard.

Of all the images of his parents, the one of the two of them at sunset stuck with him the most. When the sun set outside his window, Goku looked out and could see his parents there, their intertwined hands wrapped in red ribbon, never looking away from the other as they circled each other in perfect unison. It was beautiful. An honor and a privilege to witness their ‘wedding.’ He couldn’t help juxtaposing that against his own, how weird and foreign and fun it was at the same time. Chichi looked pretty, she smelled nice and acted very sweet, but it was so different from what he saw with his parents.

There was a lot to think about, and not enough time to mull over it all. By the time the sunlight faded and the night sky settled in, Goku flopped into bed, stripping his gi off and flinging it to the ground. His head spun, as did the room. The sheets felt cool. The soft breeze from outside felt cool too. He placed a hand to his forehead, rubbing away at the tension there—and the image, the sensation, the visceral memory of Vegeta’s fingertips and how they soothed him in his time of need—sucker-punched him hard, forcing a soft groan to slip out. He buried his face into his hands, rubbing at the skin, as more images of Vegeta popped up in his head. Vegeta’s smirk, Vegeta’s thumbs up, Vegeta’s arms around his trembling body, Vegeta’s _look_ and Vegeta in that darkness, the silver light around him, his outstretched hand and his words—

Goku curled up onto his side, reaching for two pillows. He shoved them on top of his head and hugged his arm over each one to keep them in place.

With every meditative breath, the images of Vegeta faded away, thankfully. The pounding headache didn’t stop, but at least he wasn’t thinking about Vegeta anymore. It wasn’t long before he succumbed to sleep, curling more into the sheets and the pillows.

His dreams betrayed him though. He thought of Vegeta again, but it was only one image, one memory. That memory, from that weird dark place. That Vegeta, who extended out his hand to him, who glowed like a full moon, who smiled and looked at him with pure, complete adoration, who whispered _m’yo mah’kha_ and meant it. No matter how many times he tried slapping that hand away, Vegeta didn’t disappear. He didn’t fade away. He didn’t flinch, didn’t fight, didn’t get angry at him or yell at him or tell him off whenever Goku tried pushing him away. Vegeta stayed. He stood there, in the darkness, in place, with his gloved hand out to him. Little by little, that determination, that calmness and stalwart acceptance broke Goku’s resolve. His slaps stopped. He ceased pushing Vegeta away. He didn’t run anymore. Didn’t fight. Little by little, he felt the urge to give in, to hold Vegeta’s hand, to accept what this was, the situation, everything he learned, everything between them—the r’bhon’or—and he needed to—he needed—

He woke up when he dreamt of his hand outstretching to Vegeta’s.

A good part of him didn’t want to appear at breakfast. He debated it as he bathed, thought about what excuse to say as he slipped on his orange gi. But he couldn’t come up with anything at all. He didn’t want to lie or not spend anymore time in the palace or the twins or Chikora or anything. He couldn’t avoid Vegeta forever, despite a nagging, childish thought telling him he could somehow pull that off. It stood to reason that maybe Vegeta too didn’t want to talk to him either, and maybe Vegeta would avoid him too, if that garden scenario was any indication. Vegeta didn’t come to him then. Plus, showing up to breakfast didn’t mean he had to talk to Vegeta immediately.

His stomach turned to tight knots, nausea building up as he made his way to the royal chambers. Not even the alluring smell of good food kept the queasiness at bay. The closer he came, the more he wanted to turn away. But this had to be done. He had to fight the urge like he could an opponent. He wasn’t going to back down.

When he entered the massive room, everyone was seated, digging in to their meals. The only person not present was Chikora. The King waved him in, greeting him with a wide smile. The twins too, chattering already in Sadalan about how he was doing, what they were going to do today at the training grounds, if he was going to teach them any new techniques, maybe fusion. Vegeta only nodded to him, and that was it. He didn’t look at him. Didn’t talk to him. Even when breakfast ended and the twins fluttered around Goku for his attention, Vegeta didn’t come to him. Didn’t pull him to the side. Vegeta took his leave and walked away the opposite end of the hall. The nausea Goku harbored lessened considerably at the sight. At the same time, his chest and shoulders felt heavy, his throat tight, because Vegeta didn’t talk to him. Didn’t bug him or ask him or anything. He just… let him go. Let him be.

It was a nice distraction, being with the twins for the two hours the King allotted them. He even lucked out spending in additional two hours at the _ambuwa gumisou_ with some of the Saiyan soldiers that lingered around, sparring with them, chatting with them, teaching them and instructing them. No one seemed to judge him anymore. No one acted weird or different around him either. They treated him like he was one of their own, like he was a Saiyan from Sadala. Like it was meant to be. The thought hit him in a good way, a needed way, because the trepidation he didn’t know he was harboring inside finally let his heart go, and he relaxed. He could be himself, and they were more than okay with it. The soldiers in the training grounds talked to him in Sadalan, even though he responded back in his own native language more than ninety percent of the time. They asked him questions about Earth, about the Saiyans there, about what he’s like so far on Sadala. They weren’t being facetiously nice anymore, or outwardly ambivalent. They were themselves too, as much as Goku was.

When one of the Saiyan soldiers invited him out to the cafeteria for some food, Goku opted in with his usual zeal. It was there he ran into Cabba again with the soldiers Goku recognized from before, and his party of two soon grew into a party of eight. They took over a table, swamping stories of home, of battles fought, of foes vanquished. They joked, ribbed other Saiyans, told terrible puns that Goku shook his head at. He didn’t remember everyone’s name at the table by the time they finished, and it was hard at times keeping up with the conversations everyone had, but he would know their faces and knew that this wouldn’t be the only time they’d all come together like this.

After the Saiyans and Cabba wished him a good rest of the day, leaving Goku alone in the hallway outside the cafeteria, he lingered for a moment. There was still daylight out. Still time to grab Vegeta and talk to him. The man’s ki wasn’t hard to find. Goku felt it on the other side of the palace, right in Vegeta’s chambers. He felt calm, at least. A good sign that Goku could come over and not feel like he was disturbing him. But the dream—the image of Vegeta, glowing in silver, extending his hand out—stopped Goku from pursuing anything yet.

Instead, he used the little money he still had from last time with Vegeta and ventured out to the _yokuthensai_ for the remainder of the afternoon to practice his Sadalan. Some of the vendors remembered him from before, and he felt something inside break when a few asked where his _mah’kha_ was. Rather than tell them anything on the contrary, Goku replied with the truth: “Back at the castle.” They accepted it, and luckily, didn’t pursue anything else. Whether they could see Goku’s flinch at their question, or his falter in his big grin, or the way his breath slightly hitched at the word ‘mah’kha,’ the vendors gave way nothing, and Goku was thankful for that.

By evening, he returned to the palace with more items to bring home for everyone. Goku hauled the bag over his shoulder, holding one of those meat sticks— _inyama he’ga’to_ —from before with his free hand. He had hesitated buying one, remembering how nice it was when he and Vegeta both got one—how Vegeta looked when he handed the stick over to Goku, how their fingers brushed, how Goku didn’t notice then, but noticed now, how Vegeta’s smile grew a little bit more when that happened. But the smell and his growling stomach overruled Goku’s thoughts and he rushed over to the cart before he could stop himself.

The juicy, tender meat melted in Goku’s mouth with each bite, a groan of satisfaction bubbling out each time. He passed through the large double doors, entering the palace and walking down the hall, in the direction of his chambers. As he ventured further in, he reached out in search of Vegeta’s ki. To his relief, the man still lingered elsewhere in the palace. Not in his chambers, but somewhere else Goku didn’t know. Somewhere near the gardens from last time but not exactly there. And yet, he still felt his shoulders slump, his lips turn into a frown, because Vegeta wasn’t anywhere near. Vegeta was elsewhere, far away from him. Which, good that he was. But also, not so good.

He debated on wearing the Sadalan armor in his closet before deciding to stick with his orange gi for dinner. In the royal chambers, Chikora and the King greeted him, as did the twins. Vegeta, again, only nodded at him, and it struck Goku how cold and aloof he acted. There wasn’t any disdain there he could see, or resentment. He was just… distant. Closed off.

They all chatted over a warm meal, Chikora discussing her studies with Kohltavi, the King mentioning how grueling debating in the courts over policy was, the twins chattering like little excited birds about how great it was sparring with Goku. Vegeta participated as well. The man wasn’t someone who acted animated over anything, so on that note, Vegeta didn’t act off or different. He was his usual poised, controlled, reserved self. He chuckled at some things the King said, actively listened to the twins’s stories, asked questions about magic to Chikora. But he didn’t participate when Goku talked. He listened, yes, that Goku could tell. He didn’t turn away from him or look away or anything when Goku spoke. But not once did he speak up. Not once did he ask any questions or say something or anything. He was just there, like a statue, silent.

It didn’t surprise Goku when after dinner Vegeta walked away like he did earlier in the day, heading down the hall opposite of him. He watched him go, the flutter of his red cape, the clicks of his heels on the ground, and the war started up in him. _Grab him_ , one voice shouted. _Not yet,_ shrieked the other. They battled in his mind as he stood there, watching, until Vegeta rounded the corner, disappearing from sight.

Behind him, he heard Chikora say, “Your umoya flickers every time he leaves.”

He turned around. “It does?”

She nodded. “Umoya only respond like that when one is restless and seeks closure.”

Goku sighed. “Sounds about right.”

“Have you spoken with him?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“I assume it wasn’t pleasant then.”

He looked away for a moment, scratching the back of his head. “Not really, no.”

Chikora took a step forward, one of her hands resting on Goku’s bicep. “Walk with me to my chambers, Goku.” He glanced down at her and saw an inviting smile on her face, her earrings twinkling in the candlelight of the hall. “Maybe I can help in some way.”

He smiled back at her, patting her hand. “Thanks, Chikora. You’ve done a lot for me.” He pulled her hand away, holding it in his. “But I know what I have to do.” He squeezed it. “And I gotta do it on my own.”

She nodded. “The hardest decisions usually do.” She squeezed his hand back, folding her free hand on top of his. “May the goddesses be with you in your time of need.”

“Uzko du Soli, Chikora,” he said, delighted in her soft gasp and subsequent wide grin. “Tor vuma uthi’ho.”

Chikora nodded to him, releasing her grip on his hand. She turned around in the direction Vegeta left in, her dress glittering like her jewelry. “En’l’esh, n’dra’ge.” _Good night, brave one._

“Night.”

Once in his room, Goku took time to meditate before bed, the thoughts, sensations and feelings of the day melting away as he focused his breathing. He sat on the ground near the window, listening to the wind and the sounds of the wild life outside. Nothing but blackness behind his eyelids. Nothing in his mind. Only the sensation of his own breath. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

An image of his parents appeared. His mother hugging his father. Their hands wrapped in red. The flowers and leaves in her hair. His father’s anxious smile. The endless stars and the purple-orange sunset. The palpable need between them. Their faces through red glass, as Goku reached his tiny hand up to touch them one last time. His father’s pride. His mother’s concern. Their voices. The desperation, the passion and the love, for each other. For him. He felt his lips curl up, soaking in those feelings, those sensations.

The image transitioned to another. Chichi laying on her side in sleep, her silky black hair falling over her shoulder. Hanging up laundry in the middle of the day, humming a tune. Helping Goten pronounce a word from a new book he was reading. Smiling at him. Laughing. Reprimanding him for something he did. Forgiving him with a kiss to the cheek. Her love, for him. Her safety. His smile waned a little the longer the image lingered, because there was love, yes, he felt love in his heart, in himself. But it was so small, so obviously miniscule compared to what he felt with his parents. There was no desperation, no passion.

Then the image dissolved to _that_ Vegeta—glowing silver and smiling wide—and Goku forced his eyes wide open, pushing it away.

He stared ahead at the wall, at the whole room. A soft breeze entered, chilling his skin, and he shivered a little, hugging his arms around his torso.

His attention lingered on the chair in the corner, next to the window. The chair Vegeta sat in when he woke up after his nightmare about his parents. The chair Vegeta waited in as he woke up from the dra’zela. Watching over him. Taking care of him. Not judging him. Not pushing him. Not mocking him or belittling him or taking advantage of him. Nothing but understanding and comfort, every time, done with a quiet resilience and reservation that Goku needed in those moments and appreciated immensely. As if Vegeta could read his mind. As if Vegeta knew him, through and through, every piece of him—every fault, every strength, every little thing about himself—and still stayed. Endured it all. All because—because Vegeta—Vegeta _actually_ —

 _You can’t like me._ The gardens. His voice then, bordering on hysterical. _You never would—you wouldn’t—_

The tree. _She is my urave—_ Vegeta’s voice then, tempered and calm. — _and you are my mah’kha._

He felt one of his own hands slide up to rest over his beating heart.

 _You don’t know what you’re saying!_ Goku cried aloud, slapping his ears over his head, a childish sight.

 _I speak the truth._ Vegeta, the prince he was, in total control. _I won’t go back._ Honest and sincere. _I refuse._

Kohltavi’s hands, gesturing to the purple liquid under bright sunlight. _Is this what you need?_

His fingers dug into his orange ki, bruising the skin of his chest, right over his fluttering heart. The beat of it echoed in his mind like drums, like the sound of his hands beating on red glass, like the drums of the musician in the yokuthensai.

Vegeta, glowing in silver, like a full moon against an inky black sky. His outstretched, gloved hand. His smile. That _look_.

 _M’yo mah’kha,_ he said.

 _I trust you, Kakarot,_ he said.

 _Goodbye, Kakarot,_ he said.

Goku stared ahead, listening to his heartbeat, feeling it under his skin. He swallowed hard, finding his throat dry. Slowly, he unfurled his grip over his heart and took a deep, long inhale, holding it on the top. When he exhaled, he wiped at his dry eyes, then at his cheeks, jawline, and neck.

His mind felt clear, his body not heavy or slumped. He crawled into bed with a resolve in mind and he curled up into the sheets tight, turning himself away from the window. He then reached over to the opposite side of the bed—the side Vegeta laid on more than once—and grabbed the pillow there, hugging it to his chest. Soon, he closed his heavy eyes.

***

The resolve he felt the night before didn’t waver when he woke up the next morning. It only doubled as he prepared himself for the day, almost tripling as he walked down the hallway towards the royal chambers for breakfast. No doubts lingered in his mind, no hesitation. There was fear, yes. Palpable, suffocating fear that terrified him more than Moro did the first time he met him. More than when he fought Buu. More than when he first felt Cell’s energy. More than when Chichi went into labor and had very bad contractions. Even more than his wedding day. To the best of his ability, Goku squashed it down, burying it deep inside, turning it into just a little nagging fear, rather than an all-consuming one. Because he knew what to do. Even though his mind still screamed at him to reconsider, to make a different choice, to think everything over again, Goku made his decision. As much as it petrified him, he knew what to do, and he wasn’t going to back down from this fight his mind threw him into. Like he would any opponent, he’d fight this, and he’d win.

That fear inside him spiked when he walked into the chambers and saw Vegeta in the flesh, dressed in his royal regalia. At least no one from the royal family noticed his little jolt, or the tremor in his voice as he greeted them all good morning, or the shake in his hand as he pulled out his chair and took a seat at the table. Vegeta didn’t seem to notice either, thankfully.

Breakfast went by fine. Goku managed well in conversation, albeit he knew he wasn’t acting as jovial or carefree or energetic as he had in the past. When the twins expectedly came up to him after the dishes were cleared, Goku turned to the King and asked, “Do you have some time to spar with them now?”

The King blinked a few times, then replied, “I might. Why do you ask?”

“I think it’d be pretty neat if the boys showed you how far they’ve come along after three days!” He glanced at the two boys and their disappointed frowns, then winked. “Give your old man a good challenge, _k’ne_?”

In the corner of his purview, he noticed Chikora grin from ear-to-ear at the usage of that cultural slang he heard over the past week. In front of him, the twins grinned too, practically bouncing in front of him as they shouted in Sadalan over each other: “Great idea, Goku!” “Awesome!” “Let’s do it, Baternat!” “I’m going first, Courget!” “No fair, you always go first!” “I’m the oldest, that’s why!” “Hey!”

They formed fists, ki balling up around each hand, and Goku stepped between them, a hand on each shoulder. “Hey now, save that for the ambuwa gumisou, you two!”

As one, they nodded, looking down at the ground in shame. “Sorry, Master Goku.”

He chuckled, turning his attention to the King. “What’d you say, King Sadala? I can train with them tomorrow, but it might be nice spending some time with your boys.”

The King grinned, shrugging a little. “Why not.” He stood from the table, stretching his arms overhead. “I could use the workout.”

In an instant, the twins gathered around their father, chattering in Sadalan. The King gathered the two up in his arms as they kept talking over each other. As one, they headed for the door, in the direction of the training grounds. Chikora soft laugh echoed in the chamber as she took her leave as well. Vegeta followed right behind her, turning in the hall in the direction of his room.

Goku caught up to him in time, reaching a hand out to touch his arm, but stopped himself short of grabbing his wrist. In his hesitation, Vegeta walked further away, the click of his heels as loud as the heartbeat in Goku’s ears. His mind shouted _not today, not yet_ , and he pushed that thought away, deep down.

He grit his teeth and stood his ground, forcing his hands to not turn into fists. He double checked he wasn’t going to shout or scream or yell at Vegeta’s retreating form before he opened his mouth and asked: “Hey Vegeta?”

To his surprise, Vegeta didn’t keep walking. He stopped a few feet away and turned around. “Yes Kakarot?”

Despite the tremor he felt in his body, his voice sounded steady. “Can we go somewhere private to talk? Away from the palace?”

Vegeta nodded without hesitation. He closed the gap between them, and Goku fought the urge to back down. With a meager few feet between them, Vegeta asked, “Any place you have in mind?”

Goku shook his head no. “You pick it.”

“Very well.” Then he walked past him, the edges of his red cape brushing against the skin of Goku’s bare arm, and Goku shuddered a little, gooseflesh rising up. “Follow me.”

He kept a good distance away from Vegeta as they headed out of the palace to the outside, maintaining it even as they launched into the air. They flew over the yokuthensai, its bartering Saiyans, loud music and delicious smells. Farmland soon appeared below, where some Saiyans tended to the fields, some harvesting some fruits or vegetables, while others planted new crops. Domed homes and clay adobes scattered across the land as they headed towards the high mountains straight ahead where snow gathered at its peaks. Bursts of empty green fields paired with lakes and ponds came into view, some Saiyans swimming, others catching what looked like fish with their bare hands. Trees upon trees appeared soon after, and Goku caught a glimpse of a family of sloth-like creatures swinging amongst the winding branches.

The mountain ranges brought upon a burst of cold that made his teeth chatter for a moment. Down below, he caught a few Saiyans cutting stacks upon stacks of wood outside dark brown dome-shaped homes. Some young Saiyans played in the snow, throwing snowballs, bouncing around, running through it. Then the snow gave way and all he saw was a rocky terrain and many trees in certain crevices, like the one that housed Kohltavi’s temple. Part of him thought they were going in that direction, maybe even stopping at that temple, but that thought disappeared as they soared over and the mountain ranges fell behind them, leaving only a bare, grassy meadow in its wake.

Temperature picked up as they flew on, the meadow below void of any trees or water features. Soon, he caught Vegeta’s ki slowing down, and he followed suit. Up ahead, Vegeta gestured down below, and Goku trailed behind. The large meadow grew in his view until he landed amongst the large stalks of green, the vegetation brushing him all the way up to his knees. In the distance, he caught another set of mountain ranges, similar in height and features like the ones before. Goku turned around as he landed, his feet hitting solid dirt. No other ki around. Not even animals. The only ones here were himself and Vegeta.

“Is this sufficient?” Vegeta asked.

He turned his attention back to Vegeta, nodding his head. “It’s nice.”

“Hn.” Vegeta crossed his arms.

They stared at one another. A strong breeze rustled the large stalks of grass around them. Vegeta’s cape fluttered behind him. Goku felt his bangs tickle his forehead.

He took a deep breath and said, “I talked to Kohltavi. She said she couldn’t break the r’bhon’or. Her powers aren’t powerful enough anymore since Soli’s week is over. It can be done a year from now though. In the meantime, having the r’bhon’or doesn’t have to change anything between us. It didn’t change you or me or anything like that.” He paused for a moment to work against the dryness in his throat and mouth, to no avail, then continued: “So, we can just have things normal. How they were.”

“I see.”

“But…” He forced his attention to stay on Vegeta, forced his mind quiet, forced himself to stay in place as he said, with conviction, “I don’t know if I can.”

Vegeta, to no surprise, didn’t react. He stayed perfectly in place.

Goku continued, “Kohltavi had me drink something that took me somewhere dark and cold. It was something from Tor. I don’t know how it got me there, but I got to see my parents get married. I saw how they acted together. Then I got to see Chichi. In memories. And it was so obviously different that it kinda caught me off guard. Kohltavi even told me some things about myself because she read my mind when she was trying to unlock my memories, and I didn’t think it was true at first, but I thought about it, and, well—did you know I married Chichi because she made me promise her when we met as kids?”

While nothing else about him changed, Vegeta’s eyes did bug out almost out of his head. He watched Vegeta slowly shake his head no. “I did not.”

“I said yes because I thought marriage was food.”

Vegeta’s smirk didn’t make him feel bad or wrong. It actually made Goku feel a little warm inside. “You would.”

Goku allowed his hand to rest against the back of his head and scratch it there. He allowed his attention to drift away for a moment, murmuring, “Yeah, it was stupid.” Then he forced his gaze back onto Vegeta, shoving his arm back to his side. “But I don’t break my promises. She seemed like a strong fighter, was nice looking, and acted sweet, so I figured, well, I might as well go through with it. Over time, I came to love her. She taught me a lot of things and she went through a lot of things with me too. I didn’t know much of anything, really. She was patient up to a point. I really appreciated her for all she’s done and I still do.” He caught his breath, watching Vegeta for his reaction as he said, “But Kohltavi told me that was only an aspect of love. What I think I need.”

Nothing. Vegeta stood perfectly still, his arms still crossed over his chest. Even the smirk was gone. There was no read, no tell on him.

Goku pressed on. “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I can’t break my promise to Chichi. She told me when you marry someone, you are with that someone forever. Or until death? I can’t remember what we saw to each other, honestly. But I promised her, Vegeta. I can’t break my promise.”

“I will not force you into anything,” Vegeta said.

“I know you won’t. You said you wouldn’t, and I believe you, Vegeta. I trust you. I trust you and…” His face burned. His heart beat louder than ever before. A sweat rolled down the back of his neck. But his mind was quiet finally. He said, without a tremor in his voice, “And I like you. I do. I like you lots.”

No reaction again. Nothing but a statue.

Vegeta gave away nothing.

Goku drifted his attention off to the side and down, but he kept his arms by his sides, despite the urge to hug himself tight. “You make me feel like my mom and my dad felt about each other,” he said. “But I know I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. I can’t hurt Chichi, and I can’t hurt Bulma.”

“I cannot speak for your wife,” Vegeta said, “but my Bulma is a strong, smart woman. Once I explain to her about ‘urave’ and the r’bhon’or and mah’kha’or, I know she will be understanding. I trust her, as I do you. But know this here and now: I do not plan on choosing either her or you. I will have you both. It will be hard, and it will be an adjustment. None of this will be easy on anyone.”

Goku nodded. The word ‘right’ was right on the edge, ready to be released, but he closed his mouth, his throat tightening up. A harsh suffocating feeling bubbled up inside, and he willed his arms to stay in place, to not move, to not show Vegeta that this was affecting him, because clearly none of this was affecting Vegeta—

Soft, gloved fingertips touched his cheek.

Goku flinched, his head jerking up.

He watched Vegeta’s hand floating in the air, floating right near his face—and those gloved fingertips landed back on his cheek, next to the edge of his jawline, thumb grazing under his eye.

That look. His black eyes. The wind around them. The grass moving like his red cape.

The passion in his whisper. “But you are my mah’kha, Kakarot.” The adoration. “I will not go back.”

He almost gave in. Almost leaned in to Vegeta’s hand. Almost cupped that hand to his cheek and held it, but he stood still instead, frozen in place.

The warmth from Vegeta’s hand lingered on his cheek as he retracted it away, bringing it back to his side.

Before he knew it, Goku grabbed that hand—the exact hand that was outstretched in his dream, or vision, it didn’t matter what it was now—and held it firm as he said, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt Chichi. I don’t see her being as understanding as Bulma. She was really serious when she told me about how important marriage was.”

“Talk to her then.” Vegeta squeezed his hand back. “Do whatever you did to speak with King Yemma and talk to her.”

“I could, but I shouldn’t even be considering any of this. It’s not right. I’m doing that thing Chichi said not to do, but I can’t remember the name.”

“You are not cheating on her. We have done nothing together.”

“But I _like_ you, Vegeta. I like you _a lot_. That’s cheating, isn’t it?”

Vegeta’s small nod punched Goku in the chest, over his heart. But his soft whisper eased the pain away. “I will honor whatever you decide.”

“But I _can’t_ decide. I know what I should do, I know what the good thing is, and yet every time I think about it, all I can think about is how much I—I just—” He shut his eyes tight, his insides screaming at him, his mind screaming too, his whole body shook, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t—just _couldn’t_ —

_DAMMIT!_

He yanked Vegeta to him with all his might and blindly pressed his closed, tight lips to Vegeta’s, their torsos slamming against each other. His mouth missed Vegeta’s by a good inch, catching more of the side of his parted lips and some of his cheek, Vegeta’s nose pushing up against the side of his. Warm breath, soft skin, Vegeta’s scent, his lips—the burn on his face intensified to the point of pain—and Goku jerked himself away as quickly as before, yanking his hand out of Vegeta’s, then walking away a good few feet.

His body shook all over. Wouldn’t stop shaking. Same with his fists. The ground beneath him felt unstable. The cool air chilled his skin. He didn’t dare open his eyes. _Bad_ filtered through his mind. _That was bad._ The thoughts swarmed in, one after the other. _Did bad. Shouldn’t have done that. Bad. Stupid. Bad, stupid idiot, apologize, tell him sorry, tell him_ —

“Kakarot?”

Vegeta’s voice. Vegeta’s ki, the heat of his body, next to him. Beside him. Vegeta’s gloved hand, touching his bare forearm.

”Look at me,” he said, and Goku obeyed, turning in the direction of his voice and his warmth. He counted to three before opening his eyes.

He found two gloved hands reaching for his face. Reaching for his cheeks. Cupping his head, fingers pressing into his scalp, thumbs on his jawline, pulling him down, and he went with it, let Vegeta pull him down, let him control this thing between them, and he shut his eyes again at the same time Vegeta’s did.

Soft lips over his. Warm breath. Gentle.

Nose to nose. Leather gloves. His scent.

Tentative and firm. Not pushing or forcing or coercing anything. Vegeta controlled this kiss, controlled him, but he didn’t coax him into anything. It stayed simple, soft, parted lips over parted lips, and Goku couldn’t describe the things he felt bubbling up inside. His heart beat faster. His stomach flipped again and again. His body still shook, but it was a different shake than before. All this warmth burst out of him, from his stomach, his heart, traveled up and down his spine and his legs, and it felt good. Felt terrifying and new and different and weird and good and nice—but it was better than that. So much better.

A soft _smack_ echoed around them as Vegeta pulled away. Goku fluttered his eyes open and found Vegeta there, still holding his head, still close to him, still chest to chest. Still looking up at him with the complete adoration he saw in that dream, and for once, Goku felt no fear or apprehension. Instead, he felt warm, a little dizzy and parched in the mouth.

Slowly, Vegeta retreated his hands away, bringing them to his sides. But he didn’t pull back. He didn’t step away. He stayed in front of Goku, still chest to chest, and Goku was okay with it, with this close proximity. The urge to try again, to press his lips to Vegeta’s one more time and do it properly, came and went. He shoved the thought into the back of his mind and stayed in place, waiting for Vegeta to make the next move.

He didn’t expect Vegeta’s smirk, nor what he said to break the silence. “I believe that was your first kiss.”

“Huh.” Goku blinked a few times. “I thought what I did before was a kiss.”

Vegeta chuckled. “I suppose that was a version of one.” He smirked. “Though there are other ways.”

“Really? Oh wow.” He scratched the side of his cheek, gazing up at the sky above. The blush still remained, though less intense than before. “I had no idea.”

“Clearly.” Vegeta took a few steps back, giving them space. “This begs the question if Chichi ever courted you. Or date, I believe it is called on Earth. Bulma and I partook in a few of those during the seven years you were gone.”

“Hmm…” He tapped a finger to his chin. “I think so? We would go get groceries together, or walk in a park, or see a movie during the beginning of our marriage, but it kinda stopped when I died and then left for Namek and, well…” He shrugged, returning his attention to Vegeta. “Everything else after. Are those dates?”

Vegeta nodded. “So I have a proposition, Kakarot,” he said. “During the remainder of our time here on Sadala, I would like to court you. That way, you know your decision by the time we leave. Neither woman has to know, but I do plan on telling Bulma when we return, no matter what your decision is.”

“I think I’d do the same too. Telling Chichi, that is.” Goku smiled. “And I think that’s a good idea. We can date and see if this could work between us. Kohltavi said that’s what Soli believes in, that just because you’re destined doesn’t mean you’re stuck with someone. It’s how she can break r’bhon’ors.”

“R’bhon’ora.”

“Ah.” He enunciated slowly, “R’bhon’ora.” Goku fidgeted in place, biting the corner of his bottom lip. “Is that right?”

Vegeta’s warm smile made his stomach flip again. “You’re improving.”

“Hehehe.” Goku scratched the back of his head. “You know, you promised you’d teach me a few phrases!”

“I did, didn’t I? How about we go back to the palace and sit in the gardens while I fulfill that promise?”

“That’d be great!” He started to take his hand from the back of his head to the front, two fingers pressing to his forehead, but he froze when he saw Vegeta’s outstretched gloved hand, the other with two fingers two his own forehead.

“Allow me,” Vegeta said.

Goku grinned from ear-to-ear. With zero hesitation, he reached out and placed his hand in Vegeta’s. The blush on his cheeks intensified yet again when he watched Vegeta’s fingers curl around and squeeze his hand tight. His stomach flipped again, and things felt a little dizzy and warmer than before. But it was really, really nice. Really, really good.

It took a few moments, but Vegeta and Goku transmissioned away from the meadow, back to the palace, leaving only an indent of pressed grass in their wake.

***

They spent the afternoon together pouring over some language books Vegeta procured from the bookcase in his own personal chambers. Together they sat in the gardens of the palace, Vegeta listening to Goku practice some Sadalan phrases and words, correcting him here and there. He interjected at times, saying “that’s new” or “we didn’t use that on Planet Vegeta” or “that meant something different to us.” All information Goku took to heart. He sat next to Vegeta the whole time, hip almost touching hip, but still a little gap between them, so this wasn’t too much, too soon.

As the light outside waned, they went their separate ways to prepare for dinner with the royal family. To Goku’s surprise, Vegeta squeezed his hand tight before leaving down the opposite hallway. He couldn’t explain what he felt inside as he watched Vegeta go. The stomach flipping, the tight chest, his face burning yet again, an unexplainable dizziness and all this warmth—but he didn’t have a name for it. He didn’t understand it.

He thought it over as he puttered about his room, waiting to be summoned for dinner. It was like what he felt with Chichi sometimes, but _way_ more intense. Chichi made him smile, had made him blush in the past, made him feel warm too. But not like this. His stomach never flipped around like this. He didn’t shake around Chichi. He never had such a tightness in his chest, save the time he had the heart virus, but this was different than that. Everything was different and new and weird, but really, really nice. He liked these feelings, as strange as they were. They mimicked the feelings he got from his mom and dad, back in that dark place. Affection, passion, understanding, need, want—

_Love._

Goku froze.

The images from earlier. The sensations he felt. Vegeta’s lips against his. Vegeta’s gloved hands cupping his head. Very gentle. Controlled. Inviting Goku, but not pushing him. How Goku wanted to kiss back harder but stopped himself from doing anything more. How he wanted to wrap his arms around Vegeta, pulling them closer, feel more of his body. How Vegeta’s chest felt warm and good against his own. Vegeta’s scent that smelled really nice and good. Vegeta’s smile. His look. All those images, those feelings that came up, how Goku reacted, how different it felt, different and good and strange and sweet and nice.

He flopped down onto the edge of the bed, suddenly cold. He laid back to stare at the ceiling, his arms bent, framing either side of his head.

A tingling sensation on his lips.

Goku brushed fingertips over them.

Even now, he could feel Vegeta there. How good it was. How he wanted more, to do more, but had no idea what to do next, and Vegeta wasn’t going to push him. Vegeta pulled away before Goku could act. Before he could potentially do something he’d regret later, because even now, there was a little voice, a little nagging piece of guilt simmering under the surface. Despite agreeing to this dating thing and knowing it would help make his decision before leaving, he still felt bad. Felt like it was wrong to Chichi. All they did was kiss and already it was miles different from when he kissed Chichi, and it made him feel bad that he wanted to do more, but also good that he wanted to do more. Because he really, really wanted to do more. He really, _really_ liked Vegeta. Spending time with him, holding his hand, learning more Sadalan from him, that one kiss and the sweetness and affection there—he _really_ liked it, and almost wanted to stay he loved it.

But it couldn’t be love. Not yet. He couldn’t just love Vegeta that easily. Kohltavi said he didn’t know what love was, how he couldn’t discern between love for Chichi and love for food, and she was right. So he couldn’t automatically say he loved Vegeta. He had to know for certain what love was, what it entailed. Otherwise, none of this dating with Vegeta was worth it. All he would be doing then was hurt Chichi and hurt Vegeta.

He sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes.

Along with the guilt came doubt. The doubt that he probably didn’t have the capacity to love the right way. He loved everything. Kohltavi was right. He didn’t care what or who, he just loved everyone and everything. Chichi clearly loved him, she said it many times over the course of their marriage, and he knew when someone was being sincere, and she was, every time. But as he mulled over memories of them together, of when he said the same words back, he knew that he meant the words too, but not like she did. Not like that.

Being mates—mah’kha’or—it stood to reason that maybe Vegeta loved him too. If he said that Kohltavi showed him the thing he needed, then he probably went through the same thing, going to that dark place, and who knew what he saw there. Whatever it was caused Vegeta to not only accept that they were mates, but wanted it—blatantly saying he needed it—and now Vegeta ‘courted’ him so he could help Goku make a choice.

Vegeta definitely knew what love actually was. He saw how he reacted when Beerus slapped Bulma. How he protected and fussed over newborn Bulla. How he took care of Trunks and his tone around him as they sparred together. He didn’t say any of the words, but his actions spoke volumes. He loved his family, his children and his Bulma. So maybe Vegeta loved him too now. How, Goku didn’t know. They hadn’t spent that much time together courting for Vegeta to love him like Goku thought he did. But it wasn’t so strange to think about or wrong. It actually felt good. It made his stomach do the flip thing again.

But the doubt that Goku could match Vegeta, could even hold a candle to the capacity Vegeta possessed to really, truly love—

A knock on the door stopped Goku’s thoughts short. He sat up as a servant entered, announcing dinner was served. He pushed his thoughts to the side for now.

Dinner went by uneventful. The King spoke first, describing the great spar he got out of his twins and how they did give him a good challenge like Goku said. The twins chattered about the moves they broke out, the things they found they needed to work on and the things they knew they were good at, all the while looking at Goku with wide eyes and big, proud grins. Chikora discussed more of her magical studies today and how she found something new to work on. When the subject of their day came around to Vegeta, Goku paused mid-chew, waiting to hear what he would say.

Vegeta turned his attention right to him—Goku felt his heart skip a little at the shine in his black eyes—and he said, “I taught Kakarot more Sadalan.” He turned back to his meal, finishing with, “It was productive.”

The King grinned. “Fantastic to hear.” He gestured to Goku. “How do you think you’re fairing with the language now?”

He swallowed what was in his mouth before replying, “Oh, pretty good! Vegeta’s a great teacher. I think I get the whole tongue clicks now, but some of the grammar stuff throws me off still.” He spared a small glance to his side, and his heart skipped again at how Vegeta smiled around the rim of his wine glass—a small, sweet smile.

“Ah yes, the grammar is quite confusing,” The King said. “But you’ve come a long way, Goku. You’ll get it eventually.”

Goku felt his cheeks heat up as the twins spoke over one another as usual with words of affirmation and support, all directed at him. “Yeah Goku!” “You’ll get it!” “It’s not easy at all.” “I still forget where the ‘ir and ‘oa and ‘ki should go.” “Hey me too!”

By the time everyone finished, Goku felt sated and full. He yawned, stretching his arms up over his head as he pushed himself out of the chair, away from the table. The King wished everyone a good night, carrying the two still-awake, still-fussing twins under both of his arms. Chikora laughed as she followed behind her father, shaking her head.

Once alone, he felt Vegeta’s hand touch the small of his back, his body coming close to his. Again, his cheeks heated up, worse than before.

“Tired?” Vegeta asked.

He turned to his side, looking down at him. “Kinda, yeah. Long day.”

“Hm. Too bad.” That hand slipped away. “I thought we could spar a little tonight.”

“What!” He jumped in place, all the tiredness from before gone in an instant. “No no no, let’s go do it! We haven’t sparred at all since we got here! I’m not that tired, let’s spar!”

Vegeta chuckled. “Good. I think we should go away from the palace, though.”

“Good idea!” He grabbed Vegeta’s arm, yanking him down the hallway. “Let’s go!”

“Kakarot!” A tug at his grip. “Release me!”

“Shh, you don’t want to wake up the whole place, do ya?”

“Princes do _not_ like being dragged around like a piece of trash.”

“Oh okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He let Vegeta go, turning to him. “I’m just really excited!”

Vegeta brushed off invisible dirt from each of his arms, then shaking them out. There was the usual derision there, the annoyance Goku knew well, but with a softer edge. Annoyed, yes, and amused, at the same time. Vegeta gestured ahead of them, towards the double doors far ahead. “Your turn to pick the place.”

“You got it!” He floated over the ground and picked up speed, heading to the doors. “Follow me!”

Goku knew exactly where to go. Even at night, with the whole planet bathed in the glow of moonlight, he could see the changing terrains beneath him. The farmland, the bazaar, the forests and the lakes and ponds. The cool wind against his skin, the clouds around him, Vegeta’s warm body flying in sync with him, by his side—his body thrummed with excitement.

They landed in a wasteland, one Goku remembered from earlier in the week, when he remembered his parents completely. Once there, he powered up to base level Super Saiyan, crouching into a fighting stance. Vegeta unclasped his necklace first, followed by his red cape, placing them onto the ground far away. Then he too followed suit, the light of his own Super Saiyan illuminating the world around them, his normal smirk housing a softer edge too. Still the same Vegeta, still ruthless, still cunning and smart. But a little different.

As one, they charged at each other. They fought for hours, tearing at their clothes, sweat pouring down their faces, blood from cut lips trickling down each of their chins, some of it splattering on the ground beneath them. They powered up to Super Saiyan 2, Super Saiyan God, stopping at Super Saiyan Blue. More than once, Goku pinned Vegeta, or placed him into a headlock. More than once, Vegeta responded in kind. They matched evenly as hours added up, neither one giving up first, neither one giving into the other completely.

It was perfect. Needed. Goku loved this, loved fighting Vegeta, loved using his strength and his wits against someone like Vegeta. Someone who could push him, challenge him, think on his feet and be creative in battle. Someone who knew every weakness, every strength, every move he knew, every trick up his sleeve, every attack and power up. Someone who knew him completely, in and out, and never tired of him. Never giving up on him. Someone by his side, someone Goku trusted completely. Someone he loved—

Goku froze.

He ducked in time from Vegeta’s oncoming punch, stepping to the side.

Vegeta frowned, pulling his arm back. “Something the matter, Kakarot?”

“Nope!” A fake chuckle slipped out of him as he powered down, scratching the back of his head. “I think I’m tired now is all!”

It was obvious Vegeta didn’t believe him. His look—the glare, the frown, the narrowing of his eyelids, the curl of his nose—gave it away. But Vegeta didn’t press. He nodded, powering out of Super Saiyan Blue, back to his base form. “Very well. We can pick this up tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Sure! That sounds great, Vegeta.” He returned to base form. “Thanks for sparring with me.”

“Hn.” Vegeta picked up his necklace, then his red cape. He smirked, offering his free hand to him. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

The purr that accompanied those words, along with that smirk, made his stomach flip again and again, his cheeks close to burning off his whole face. Goku suppressed the tremor in his hand as he grabbed Vegeta’s, pressing his two fingers to his forehead and locking onto the ki in the palace.

A moment later, they reappeared inside in a hallway, not far from Goku’s own room. Vegeta lingered a little in Goku’s grip before he let it go, something Goku caught, and he felt like hiding for some weird reason. He wasn’t afraid. He did feel a little overwhelmed and really dizzy and pretty hot, but that didn’t warrant to go hide from Vegeta.

He watched Vegeta turn away. Over his shoulder, he heard that purr accompany Vegeta’s words yet again. “Sleep well, Kakarot.”

Goku fumbled for his words, for his voice even, before he replied, “Y-Yeah. Night.”

His feet stayed in place, watching Vegeta’s retreating form. He didn’t move until he couldn’t see him anymore, and once Vegeta’s ki was safely in the opposite end of the palace, Goku finally sighed, slumping against the cool wall beside him.

His heart thumped wildly. His stomach kept doing loop-de-loops. The heat around him was unbearable, and he felt like his knees would collapse under him. It made no sense whatsoever. They didn’t spar _that_ hard to warrant a reaction like this out of him. It was a good, normal, every day kind of spar, the kind he liked and adored and appreciated. The kind only Vegeta could give him. So it made no sense. None of what he was feeling, how he was reacting, made any sense.

He waited a minute to calm down, catching his breath, soothing his heartbeat. Once he felt things return to normal—some semblance of normal, at least—he moved away from the wall, heading back to his room nearby.

Under the spray of warm water, his body still shivered. His skin tingled. The cut on his lip was superficial, but even that tingled too. The rush of the spar clearly still remained, but there was something new underneath, something foreign he didn’t know and couldn’t label it. He tried clearing his mind, tried doing a standing meditation with his eyes closed and his breathing tempered, and it did help a little. But only a little. He still couldn’t fully calm down. His body felt warm, wired, almost itchy, like he was ready to explode, or shout on top of his lungs, or go running really fast, or fly around the world a few times. All this unspeakable energy, all these unknown feelings, and he couldn’t figure out why this was happening and why it wouldn’t just stop already.

Goku slipped on his sleeping shorts, heading to bed. Once there, he curled up into the cool sheets, closing his eyes. He reached out and grabbed the pillow Vegeta slept on, hugging it with both arms to his chest. Only then did his body start to feel normal, the energy inside tapering off, the fire easing away. As much as he wanted to deride himself—because _of course_ this was why, it was Vegeta, his weird feelings for Vegeta—Goku didn’t bother. Instead, he succumbed to sleep, a good ache running throughout his warm body.


	9. Chapter 9

Late. Goku knew he was very, very late to breakfast—if that was still happening. He couldn’t believe the time when he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The dream he had kept him under for too long, and he berated himself for not getting up sooner as he put on his orange gi. No details of that dream came to mind, who was there, where he was or anything. Only that it felt warm and good, like he was being hugged by a soft blanket and he didn’t want to get up.

He rushed past the guards outside his door, zooming down the hallways to the royal chambers. At the double doors, he pushed them wide open, only to find no one inside, the table clear of all utensils and plates, not a single person around. His shoulders slumped as he slapped his forehead. Then his stomach growled, hunger ripping his guts in two, and he wrapped his arms around his waist, frowning.

From behind, someone said in Sadalan, “Prince Vegeta warned us you’d be late.”

Goku turned around and came face to face with the King himself. He didn’t look cross or upset, only curious. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s the twins you should apologize to. They’re not happy Master Goku didn’t train them today.” The King smiled, the sight preventing the guilt that rose up inside Goku. “But I told them they can train later in the afternoon, if that’s convenient for you.”

“Oh, sure! That’s totally okay with me. Thanks, uh, sir!” Goku unfurled his arms to scratch at his neck. “Or is it your highness?”

“Either or is fine with me.” He gestured Goku forward, turning away. “Come with me. I saved some food for you back in my quarters.”

“Oh awesome! Thanks again!”

It wasn’t a long walk to the King’s quarters. Three hallways and four turns later, they arrived at two large double wooden doors, two soldiers flanked on either side of it. They bowed in unison as the King approached. A soldier each broke formation to open each door, holding it open for them both. The King nodded to them each as he entered, Goku trailing behind him.

As the doors closed, Goku took in the massive room and its rich burgundy colors accented in sparkling gold. It was the most extravagant room he had seen in the entire palace thus far. Bright sunlight filtered through many large windows scattered throughout. To his right, a long hallway led to three closed doors, most likely other rooms. To his left, a smaller hallway led to just one closed door. In the middle of the room laid two large couches and a huge coffee table. One whole wall was dedicated to a huge screen, a console of flashing buttons and knobs at its base, along with a chair. A large desk with various papers and books sat against the opposite wall, framed by two extremely large bookcases.

The King walked to one of the opulent couches, flopping back into it. He then gestured to the coffee table before him. Goku followed and his stomach roared at the sight of a large tray full of fruits, pastries, cured meats, bread and jams.

“Help yourself,” the King said.

Goku dove right in, taking a seat on the couch opposite the King. For a few minutes, all he did was devour the food, pausing here and there to drink water or juice. He licked his lips, chewed with his mouth open, groaned when a particular piece of food tasted _ridiculously_ good—and froze mid-chew when he realized where he was, _who_ he was with, and _what_ he was doing.

With a muffin-like pastry lodged halfway through his mouth, Goku bit down, pulled his arm away and chewed slower than before. Much slower, and with his mouth closed this time.

He glanced up to the King, his cheeks a little pink.

The King, thankfully, didn’t look mad or annoyed. He looked…amused? “You have quite the appetite.”

Goku swallowed, then rubbed the back of his head. “Hehehe, sorry about that. I forget to mind my manners sometimes.”

“Quite alright.” The King reached forward for a piece of fruit. “I must admit, Goku, I’m glad you missed the communal breakfast. You and I have not spent much time together and I wanted to rectify that before you returned to your universe.”

“Sure! I’m up for that.”

“How have you enjoyed your time here on Planet Sadala?” The King leaned back, biting into the fruit.

“Well, it was a bit hard at first, I gotta say, what with the language barrier and my missing memories and stuff. I kinda wanted to go home. But Vegeta convinced me to stay and I’m really glad I did! I feel closer to my Saiyan roots now and I got to learn about my parents. And I got to spar some people, which was really cool, and I got lots of souvenirs for my family back home.” He devoured the rest of the pastry, holding a hand over his mouth as he chewed and said, “I really like it here!”

“Uzko du Soli, Goku, that your visit improved. I will say I was concerned when you first arrived. I ordered my daughter to watch over you in my place. I hope you don’t mind that.”

Goku shook his head no, swallowing the rest of the pastry. “Not at all.” He reached for another. “I appreciate that you were worried about me!”

“Of course. You’re a Saiyan, and my guest at that. I truly meant what I said the first day you and Prince Vegeta arrived: it’s imperative my guests feel welcomed on our planet. But I did not think you would be open with me as you would my daughter.” He took another bite of fruit, gesturing to Goku with it as he chewed on one side of the mouth. “Hence, her coming to you.”

“It’s all good, sir! Chikora is awesome. I like her and she’s great to talk to.” Goku took a swig of water.

“As I hoped. She truly made the right call sending you to Kohltavi’s for help. How she’s guided and assisted you and Prince Vegeta these past few days assures me that my daughter will make a fine ruler some day.”

“I definitely agree that she’s going to be a great Queen.” Goku rested his glass back onto the table. “Baternat and Courget are great too!”

“How you got those two hellion cubs to respect _and_ listen to you, especially after what they did to you?” The King finished off the fruit in one last bite, shaking his head. When he finished, he said, “Prince Vegeta was right about you. There is not a drop of hatred in your heart.”

Goku paused mid-grab of another pastry. He glanced up at the King. “He said that?”

The King nodded. “That, and you are the most powerful being of your universe.” He smirked. “Judging from the ki spikes I noticed throughout your time here, I don’t doubt that in the slightest.”

Slowly, Goku laid back onto the couch, the pastry forgotten. He looked away, a heat rising on his cheeks, different from the blush before. More like the ones he felt around Vegeta. He rubbed one hand onto the bare bicep of the other arm. “That’s nice of him.”

He listened to the King lean forward and grab at the pitcher of water on the table. In his purview, he noticed him pour a glass, then lean back. “I must apologize again for our mistake listening to Cabba’s observations of you two. I did not mean any harm.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s…” That hand on his bicep went up to his hair, scratching the scalp, near the bump back there. “Well…” The debate in his head lasted as long as three seconds. He made his decision with a shrug and: “It’s kinda true.”

In his purview, the King froze mid-sip of his drink. Slowly, he lowered it down, back to the table.

“Kohltavi explained,” Goku said, “and, uh, helped me understand that, and umoya, and stuff.”

“So you two possess an actual r’bhon’or.”

He nodded.

“And not because of your fusions.”

Goku shook his head no. The blush intensified as he ceased his scratching, bringing his hand back to his lap. He muttered, “We’re… mah’kha’or.”

The King seemed to slump a little further into the couch.

A clock ticked in the background.

Goku resisted the urge to rub his arm again. He bit his bottom lip, took a deep breath, then turned to face the King in front of him.

He seemed to look a little dazed, like he was in shock. He wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t seem angry. The longer Goku sat there in the silence between them, the longer he noticed the faint shine of his eyes, the droop at the corner of his lips.

Palpable sadness infiltrated the King’s words. “Uzko du Soli, Goku. Tor vuma uthi’ho. The goddesses have truly blessed you and Prince Vegeta.”

Goku swallowed against the lump in his throat. All the food in his stomach churned a little. “Chikora told me about her mom. What dra’zela did to her and to you. I’m so sorry.”

The King’s attention drifted away to the desk. Goku followed his line of sight and found a framed picture there: a visibly younger King and a woman who was a spitting image of Chikora, holding two crying two year olds on each of her hips. Between the two of them stood a much younger Chikora, smiling from ear-to-ear.

“She rests with our ancestors,” the King said. “No one deserved peace as much as she did. There was nothing I could do since she was only my ‘urave.’ To this day, we still don’t know how she got dra’zela.” A fist formed on top of one of his thighs. “And I wish I did. If only we knew. If only—” He stopped himself with a sharp hiss, shaking his head. “My apologies.” He returned his attention back to Goku. “I still wrestle with her death.”

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up so hard,” Goku said. “Chikora sees it. Probably the twins too. She told me so.”

“Aiii. But how can I not? I couldn’t save their mother. I did love her, but it wasn’t the right love to summon the r’bhon’or. Had she been my mah’kha, she’d still be here, like you are.” The King’s sad smile caused Goku’s throat to close up again. “I had hope that maybe it was your fusions that brought upon your r’bhon’or—that maybe if I had known about the Metamoran magic, or if Kohltavi had known earlier, we could’ve done something then. I could’ve done something. I could’ve saved her. But, that seems to not be the case.”

Goku swallowed against the new lump in his throat, leaning forward. “It doesn’t matter that you couldn’t save her.” The King’s glare almost made him pause—almost, but he pressed forward. “It doesn’t, because you still loved her. Kohltavi said Soli allows r’bhon’oa to be broken, because love is a choice. You chose your wife and you loved her so much, you almost died trying to save her. Chikora told me that too. You gave your kids one more year with their mom. You did what you could and it was all because you loved her, and she loved you too, right?” When the King nodded, Goku said, “Then that’s all that matters. You loved each other. It’s terrible that she died. I wish you and Chikora and the twins never had to experience this pain. But you have to focus on the good things, King. Your daughter, your boys, your kingdom, whatever friends you have, your health, and even the memories of her. I’m sorry if I stepped over any boundaries, sir, but I just… I don’t like it when people hurt themselves.” He smiled. “Plus, I think sometimes it helps to hear it from an outsider perspective.”

The King stared, his lips a thin line, his face as regal and as impassive as Vegeta’s.

The ticking of the clock. The faint sound of wind outside.

Goku watched the King slowly smile and cross his arms over his chest.

“Amazing.” The King chuckled. “When I told Vegeta all of this and asked for his thoughts, he said to speak with you because you would know exactly what to say.” The telltale sign of tears shined in his eyes. “What a beautiful mah’kha he has.”

That blush returned ten fold. “Ah, well…” Goku looked away, scratching the back of his head. “I, uh, hope I helped.”

“More than you know, n’dra’ge. Thank you for _your_ concern for me and my loved ones. The goddesses have blessed us well, for bringing both of you to our planet and our universe.”

“Hehe.” He fidgeted a little in place. “I’m glad to be here too.”

“I’m sure. You have found your mah’kha _and_ your memories. And after spending time with you today, I can see why Soli favors you, if not downright adores you.” He heard the King chuckle. “Though, probably not as much as your mah’kha.”

Goku bit his entire bottom lip as the blush deepened. He felt hot, dizzy, and there came the stomach flips, which didn’t help his digestion at all. Then his heart started to beat wildly again and his lungs felt tighter and he rubbed the back of his neck now, the unknown sensations and unnamed feelings inside confusing and exciting him at the same time.

“Has Vegeta told you why we value mah’kha’or so much?” the King asked.

He shook his head no. Goku took a deep breath and said, “Not really.” Didn’t sound off at least. He lifted his gaze back to the King, his hand returning to his lap.

“When our planet was young and we Saiyans still sought our purpose in the universe, there were two warriors: Vegeta the Great, and Sadala the Brave. They each represented the best of the Saiyan race, but they ideologically differed. Soon, Saiyans took side, supporting either Vegeta’s philosophy or Sadala’s philosophy. This led to the Great Civil War, ending with each warrior laying down their weapons to engage in ritual combat on the land where the first Super Saiyan God existed. There, the mates of each great warrior stripped their love one bare of clothing, of weapons and of their power.”

“Forced Spirit Fission!” Goku grinned, leaning forward. “They held onto their power while they fought?”

“Yes. These mates of Vegeta and Sadala made the ultimate sacrifice, resisting the temptation to not return it until one warrior yielded, standing there on the sidelines as their most beloved fought to the death.”

“What? Why? Why did anyone have to die?”

“It was ritual combat. We don’t practice that anymore, but it was part of the times then. Without it, the Great War would’ve continued.”

“But that meant—that meant someone had to—oh.” A bile rose up his throat. “Oh no.”

The King nodded again. “The mate of Vegeta the Great had to let her mate’s power go into the ether, as ritual demanded. But she did let go of her mate’s power alone. She released her own too, following him into death. That is why we revere mates on our planet. The r’bhon’or between two destined Saiyans, the love they share, the magic and the power that can be generated between the two, the need to be with the other—it is immeasurable and indescribable. We must never forget the sacrifices of mah’kha’or, and we must pray that one day, we will find our own.”

Goku shook his head. “That’s so sad.”

“It is, but we learn and remember the past, so that we may grow in our present and create a better future.” He smiled. “It’s why we no longer perform ritual combat, as well as other antiquated things.”

“Good! No one should die and suffer like that. Fighting is fun but not when you’re killing other people. It’s not okay.”

The King chuckled. “Agreed.” He drifted his attention out to a window, to the sunlight and the cloudless blue sky outdoors. “In our religion, we believe that we are all destined to be reborn again and again, until we finally meet our mah’kha in the right lifetime. When we do, that is when our souls may finally rest, because we have found our other half and do not need to be born again. Somewhere out there, my mah’kha lives. Or doesn’t. Maybe he or she hasn’t been born yet. I don’t know. Who knows. Maybe he’s a child of Tor like your Vegeta is, _k’ne_?” He returned his attention to Goku. “It truly amuses me that a child of Tor finds his mah’kha in a child of Soli like yourself. But it seems only fitting. Tell me, were your parents like the others of Planet Vegeta?”

“No way,” Goku said. “They didn’t fit in at all.”

“Of course they didn’t. They were children of Soli, like you. All who descend from the lineage of Sadala are. On our planet, those who descend from the lineage of Vegeta are children of Tor, and they are the ones who don’t fit in here. Most of them do not reside planet side, and many do not join the Sadalan Defense Forces, opting instead to wander the stars in search of battle.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “It wouldn’t surprise me if my mah’kha was out there now, terrorizing the universe.” Then opened them again. “In any case, I’m thrilled you found your mah’kha, Goku, and at such a young age too.”

Goku tilted his head. “Uh, I’m forty-eight, sir.”

The King frowned. “Yes, that is young.”

“Not on Earth.”

“Ah. Well, it is for a Saiyan. We usually live until…” He hummed and hawed until: “Around a hundred forty, hundred fifty?”

“WHAT?!”

“Give or take. That’s the average, yes.” The King shrugged. “Maybe it differs for your universe’s Saiyans, but since we’re twins, I doubt it. We don’t live as long as other races I have met in my time as King. The recorded oldest Saiyan that’s ever lived was 200 years old. This is because the Saiyan immune system fights and improves every time we come closer to death. It’s why we don’t age and stay young for a long time. But death comes for us all in the end. Sometime between a hundred to a hundred twenty-five, our immune system eventually begins to slow and break down. We get more aches and pains, probably bruise and injure ourselves easier, definitely get sicker more. Then we eventually pass on, as all things do.”

“That’s insane,” Goku whispered. He turned his attention to his hands—his youthful, strong hands. He flipped them palm up, the small scar tissue there, the callouses, but no wrinkles. “I’m outliving Chichi. I’m going to outlive her. Probably my kids too.”

“As will Prince Vegeta and his urave. But not forever, and not now.” The King stretched, bringing his arms up over his head. “Still! It is a blessing from the goddesses you found your mah’kha now. All this time to spend together and know each other. How fortuitous.”

Goku whispered, “I don’t know if I can.”

He heard the confusion, as well as the subtle rage. “What do you mean?”

His hands shook a little. “I haven’t accepted being Vegeta’s mah’kha yet,” Goku said. “He’s courting me right now before I make a decision to keep this or not.”

“Your urave—”

“No, wife. It’s different on Earth.” Goku shook his head no. “Chichi told me so. You marry one person and that’s it. I chose her, and I tried asking Kohltavi to break the r’bhon’or with me and Vegeta, but she couldn’t until a year goes by.” He forced his hands still, taking a deep breath. Goku gazed back up to the King. “In any case, I’m moving forward to see if this is right. If I can do this with Vegeta.”

“I see.” The King crossed his arms, reminding Goku of Vegeta in that very moment. “When will you make your decision?”

“Probably before we leave in three days.”

He watched the King visibly relax. “Thank you for giving Prince Vegeta a chance. No matter what you decide, please do not break that r’bhon’or with him. Kohltavi is right in that you can choose who you love. But we Sadalans search our entire lives to find our other half. Honor our people, and yours, by holding onto what the goddesses have given you.” He smiled—a small, sad smile. “The chance to be complete.”

Goku nodded. “I understand, sir. I’ll…” He took a deep breath, exhaling in a deep sigh. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.” Three loud knocks on the door echoed loud in the room, causing the King to lean to the side and look over Goku’s shoulder. “Yes?”

Goku looked behind as well, over the top of the couch. A soldier stepped in halfway. He spoke in Sadalan, “Prince Vegeta is outside, my King.”

The King replied in Sadalan as well. “Send him in.”

A moment later, Goku watched Vegeta enter, both doors now wide open for him, his red cape fluttering, the sunlight bouncing off the purple stone around his neck. He looked even more poised, more controlled than Goku had ever seen before, as if his mannerisms were being judged with every step he took.

Vegeta didn’t meet his eye, his attention forward, right on the King. He stopped nearby the couches, bowing slightly at the waist. “Good afternoon,” he said in Sadalan. “I was hoping to speak with Kakarot for a moment.”

“By all means. We’ve finished here.” The King came to his feet, switching out of Sadalan. “Thank you for sharing a meal with me, Goku.”

He followed suit. “Thanks for having me! It was good.”

The King offered his hand across the table. Goku grabbed it and a strong grip locked on, one he returned in kind, and the King responded back, tightening the hold at the same time his eyes narrowed.

“Remember what I’ve said,” he said.

Goku nodded. “I will.”

One last squeeze, and the King released him, saying, “Maybe I’ll take up on that spar you offered when you first arrived, if time permits.”

“Really?!” Goku squirmed in place out of excitement. “You mean it?!”

From his side, Vegeta groaned. “Don’t encourage him, my King.”

“What can I say? His enthusiasm for fighting is infectious. Any full-bloodied Saiyan would be crazy not to challenge him.” The King smirked right at Vegeta. “I’m sure _you_ of all people would understand, _k’ne_?”

Goku tilted his head. “Well, yeah. Of course Vegeta loves fighting me.” He grinned. “I love fighting him too! He’s awesome.”

“I believe it.” The King gestured them towards the door. “Off, you two. I have a meeting in a few minutes.” Then gestured to the big screen taking up a whole wall nearby.

“Thank you, my King,” Vegeta said, bowing deeply, then turning away before Goku could even get a good look at him.

He trailed in Vegeta’s wake, waving over his shoulder and shouting, “See ya later!” The doors closed on an image of the King’s smirk and his returning wave, a loud boom ringing throughout the hallway as they shut.

It didn’t take long for him to catch up with Vegeta’s strides. Once beside him, Goku asked, “What’s up?”

They came to a stop. Goku turned fully to him and frowned when he noticed Vegeta’s impassive, emotionless face looked a little flushed. He also wasn’t looking right at him, more like his attention was focused on his forehead.

“You didn’t wake up this morning,” Vegeta said. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Yep! Just overslept is all.”

“Hn. No nightmares?”

“Nope.”

Vegeta nodded. Now his gaze was locked directly on his, and like clockwork, the flip in his stomach returned. “I know you’ll be spending the afternoon sparring with the twin princes, but I wanted to know if you’d like to continue practicing your Sadalan with me before that.”

“Sure! I’d like that.” He ventured a hand out to touch Vegeta’s shoulder. “You really are helping me lots!”

A small grunt, followed by that flushed look. Vegeta turned away sharp on his heel. “To the gardens, then,” he said. “We’ll stop by my room to pick up the books first.”

“Okay!”

Again, Goku caught up easily to him. He stayed by his side as they walked down the halls, past servants and soldiers alike. The urge to touch Vegeta again, to maybe brush their fingertips together, came and went as soon as it arrived. But the thought lingered, a thought that made his blush return, but it didn’t feel like the other ones, at least. Not as intense and not as hot.

***

Two hours flew by fast. Before Goku knew it, he was being summoned to the _ambuwa gumisou_ by two annoyed princes who circled around him, babbling in rapid-fire Sadalan about how _dare_ he sleep late, not to do that again, that it was uncalled for and irresponsible and that princes don’t like to wait—and then not a second later, praising him, showering him with platitudes, how strong he was, how good of a teacher he was, how excited they were to try new moves, how they wanted to be pushed today, how they couldn’t wait and wanted to get there now, right now, and Goku laughed as they dragged him away from Vegeta, a twin latched onto each arm, pulling him out of the gardens and back into the palace.

He expected Vegeta to leave, but he didn’t. To his surprise, Vegeta tagged along with him all the way to the training grounds. He even stayed for the next two hours in the stands, watching him train the twins. Having Vegeta sit there cross-armed, watching his every move, observing his actions, soaking in every thing he did and said—it unnerved Goku completely. Maybe Vegeta was learning new things, a thought that didn’t bug him whatsoever. Maybe Vegeta was judging him, a thought that _did_ bug him. Maybe Vegeta was chastising the way he taught, or how he described things. Maybe Vegeta detested the things he was telling the twins, or he thought it was stupid, or who knew what. Goku didn’t know. He had no idea what was running through Vegeta’s head because the man never, ever gave away what he was feeling or thinking.

Despite Vegeta being there, Goku maintained his attention fully on the twins and their work. He sparred with each one individually, utilizing different tactics for each prince. Baternat was already showing signs of being a tactician, while Courget showed a prowess for brute strength. When they double teamed him, Goku had no choice but to power up to Super Saiyan, and he laughed as the twins did, their wide eyes and equally wide grins matching their shouts of joy. He had told them if they got him to Super Saiyan, that meant they improved. Watching their faces light up made Goku forget that Vegeta was there for the moment and he wrapped up the twins in a big hug before flying away and falling into a fighting stance, beckoning them to attack.

The rest of the time passed by as quickly as the time he spent with Vegeta earlier. The twins were clearly challenged by his transformation to Super Saiyan. Baternat broke out tricks Goku hadn’t ever seen, and Courget surprised him by newfound energy gained within the last twenty minutes of their allotted time. By the time the twins’s tutors showed up at the training grounds, many of the soldiers there had joined Vegeta on the stands, watching them. Courget sported a few cuts, as did Baternat, but they looked happy. Tired, exhausted and wobbly on their feet, but ridiculously happy. Goku hugged them both individually, and then together, their small bodies easy to lift and swing around.

“You two are amazing!” He placed them both back to the ground. “Fantastic work, boys!”

As one, they said, “D’in m’yo, Master Goku!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get to class, you two!”

“Aiii, Master Goku,” and they bowed to him in unison before turning away, waving over their shoulders.

Goku waved back, watching them fly up to their tutors and transform from warriors into princes, standing upright, with perfect posture, bowing to their teachers. The tutors blinked a few times, turned to each other, then back to the princes.

He felt Vegeta’s ki come closer to him. Boots crunched on dirt. Beside him, he heard Vegeta say, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them do that to their teachers before.”

“Yup.” He grinned as he watched the tutors lead the twins away into the massive hall. “I told them that if they respect me as their teacher, they should do the same with every teacher they have. Not just me.”

Vegeta’s warm chuckle made his face heat up, as usual. “Very smart of you, Kakarot.” As did his words. His praise. “Well done.”

“Hehehe.” He scratched his cheek, turning to his side and hoped his blush wasn’t that obvious. “Thanks.”

Vegeta smiled at him, and the sight made his stomach flip again and again, and his heartbeat went all wild again. The same weird sensations and a weird feeling in his body, all throughout.

He almost missed Vegeta’s next words. “I think you’d be better off training children versus that radish farming you’re doing right now.”

Goku blinked a few times. “Huh.” He scratched down to his chin. “You think?”

Vegeta nodded.

He tilted his head, looking up at the sky. “Well, I don’t know the first thing about running a school—” Goku grinned. “But I do love teaching and I love fighting!” He returned his focus to Vegeta. “Teaching kids how to fight sounds like a lot of fun!” His grin waned, becoming a small frown. “Chichi wouldn’t approve of it though.”

“Hn.” Vegeta started to walk away from the training grounds, heading to a hallway opposite the one the twins left in. “Perhaps she needs an outsider perspective. I’d be happy to speak with her when we arrive back to Earth.”

Goku’s jaw flew wide open. He stared at Vegeta’s retreating back before he shook his head and shouted, “What, no!” He caught up to him, but Vegeta didn’t stop walking. “You shouldn’t!” The training grounds fell behind them both. “Chichi’s super scary when she’s mad. She’s gotten better with the whole fighting stuff, but she wouldn’t want me going out and opening my own school or anything. Plus she might think it was weird that you wanted to talk to her about me and stuff!”

“Are you or are you not going to tell her that I attempted to court you?”

“Shhh!” Goku pressed a finger to his lips. He whispered, “I don’t want anyone knowing.”

He nearly tripped at Vegeta’s side-eyed glare. “They can see our umoya’ir, Kakarot.”

Goku slapped his forehead. “Crap, you’re right.”

“Idiot.”

“I’m sorry! I just—I don’t want anyone judging us and stuff.”

“They already think we’re mates, genius.”

“I know! I know, Vegeta, I just forgot, okay?” He sighed. ”Sorry.”

They rounded a corner, coming up to an area Goku recognized. The cafeteria was nearby. “If you’re embarrassed to be courted by me—”

“I’m not!” His voice carried in the hallway. A passing servant turned her head and Goku’s face flamed in response. He stayed in step with Vegeta, whispering, “I’m not. I want to try this with you. I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.”

“Come on, Vegeta. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to do and…” He turned his attention away from Vegeta to the moving ground beneath his feet. “I’m bad at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

A snort. It hurt like a punch to Goku’s solar plexus. “At least you know,” Vegeta said.

Goku’s fingers itched by his side. He wanted to stop Vegeta, to turn him around, to look him in the eye and say he was sorry, that he did want to date Vegeta, but he didn’t. He did say a truth though. “You don’t embarrass me. You never have.”

Vegeta abruptly stopped. Goku followed suit. Black eyes glared right at him, and Goku wanted to sink into the floor at the sight. “So why are you not okay with others knowing? Do you not want your wife to know? Are you doing this out of sympathy?”

“No!” In his purview, more servants turned their heads in their direction. They didn’t matter though. Vegeta’s look, his questions, the underlying emotion in his words despite how emotionless he appeared—Goku gave into the temptation and grabbed his shoulders, squeezing hard. “I really, really like you. I do. I’m not doing this out of sympathy. I’m doing this because I really want to know. I really want to try.” His heartbeat boomed in his head. The hallway tilted. A dizziness hit him. “You make me feel things I don’t understand, and I want to understand them. I need to, Vegeta.” His whole world centered on Vegeta, his hands on Vegeta, his body, his face, all of him. “I need to know if… if I’m—”

He shut his eyes tight, his throat closing up. Stinging, all over his face. A deep ache, a hurt unlike anything he felt before, worse than any punch from any opponent, hit him, right over his heart. He squeezed Vegeta’s shoulders tighter, mindless of his strength, but Vegeta didn’t budge or react. He stayed perfectly still in front of him, silent.

Slowly, Goku released his grip, his arms flopping to his sides. He heard his breathing, how erratic and out of control it felt, like his heart. The thought lingered in his head, a thought that hit him, deep down, and he couldn’t bring it up to Vegeta. Not this one. Vegeta didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want to admit it outloud either.

But he thought it outloud in his own mind though, and it hurt, a lot.

_If I’m even able of loving someone right._

Gloved fingertips brushed his cheek.

It felt nice. Comforting. But he didn’t dare open his eyes. Didn’t move.

Fingertips became a full, gloved palm, resting on that cheek. Cupping it. Holding him. And it felt so, so good. So right.

A gloved thumb, under his eye. Rubbing the bone there, once, back and forth.

Vegeta tilted his head up.

“I only want the best for you, Kakarot.” His voice. That tone. “If that means not bringing this up with your wife, I will honor that.”

He gave in and leaned into that hand and its addictive warmth. “I just don’t want you two fighting.”

“I would not attack her, Kakarot. Let her lose her temper around me. I will not dishonor you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” He inhaled Vegeta’s scent. Felt the leather of his glove. His heart ached more. “I told you already. I trust you.”

Vegeta’s sigh warmed his skin. They were so close. Very close. Had he leaned in? Had Vegeta? “You looked in your element today. She wants you to provide for your family, so why not this? The thing you enjoy and are actually good at?”

“I don’t know, Vegeta.” He pulled away—lingering for a moment—and took Vegeta’s gloved hand into his own, squeezing it. His eyes finally opened so he could look at their twined hands. “I just don’t know.”

“Hn.” He watched Vegeta fidget his hand around, until their fingers interlaced, palm meeting palm. “You deserve to do what you wish. But I will not interfere where I am not needed.”

Goku smiled, unable to take his gaze away from their hands. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Tch.” Vegeta squeezed his hand, the glove crinkling at the sides, before slipping away.

When he finally looked up to meet Vegeta’s eye, he saw the man crossing his arms, as impassive and stoic as ever. That flushed look was back, but nothing else changed at all.

A loud stomach grumble echoed throughout the hall. Goku wrapped his arms around his aching stomach, a sheepish grin appearing on his face.

To his surprise, a matching growl roared out from Vegeta. He too wrapped an arm around his waistline, frowning a little. “I believe we should eat,” he said.

Goku nodded. “The cafeteria’s nearby if you’re up for that. They’ve got lots of ready made food.”

“Lead the way.”

As they walked down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria, Goku whispered to Vegeta, “I swear, Vegeta, I am _not_ embarrassed of you. I could never be.”

Of course, Vegeta showed nothing. He walked perfectly in time with him, head up, shoulders back, cape fluttering, stone clinking against his breastplate. “Understood,” he said. But Goku noticed the softness to that word. A gentleness, and a very faint sense of relief.

He smiled and let his bare fingertips brush against the top of Vegeta’s glove. In his purview, he noticed a very faint trip in Vegeta’s step, a sight that Goku imprinted to his memory—one that he knew he wasn’t going to forget for a long time.

***

The rest of the day passed by so quick, it caught Goku off guard. After eating in the cafeteria, surrounded by a good amount of Saiyans, they adjourned to that same wasteland as the night before and sparred for hours. Unlike last time, his mind didn’t wander much. Only a few times did he notice how attractive Vegeta looked at times, like when he smirked at him, or when he turned a certain way, or when he ran a gloved hand over his hair, or his bottom lip. But that was the extent of his thoughts, and even that was enough.

They left once the sun set, returning to the palace to shower and appear with the royal family for dinner, which went by fine, and quick too. He itched for another spar with Vegeta, maybe even see if he was up for some more Sadalan language practice, but Vegeta simply walked away and said goodnight to him, leaving him in the hallway alone, just like before. But this time, Goku wanted to chase him down, wanted to stop him, wanted to ask Vegeta if they could do more things, spar, talk, teach—anything, anything at all. But he didn’t act on it, staying in place as he watched Vegeta leave. 

Frustration overwhelmed his senses when he returned to his room. Frustrated at Vegeta for not continuing their time together. Frustrated at himself for not acting on his wishes and stopping Vegeta. Frustrated that he was frustrated over not spending more time with Vegeta. Frustrated over the fact that he was no step closer to making a decision and the clock was ticking. Starting tomorrow, Whis and Beerus were due to arrive in two days, and he had to choose: either go forward with whatever this was with Vegeta, and risk hurting Chichi, or stop whatever this was with Vegeta, and not hurt Chichi, but not know what exactly _this_ thing he had with Vegeta actually _was_. If it was what he needed, like Kohltavi said he did. If he could actually love.

His sleep proved restless, plagued by fitful dreams that he quickly forgot about when he opened his eyes. He woke up earlier than he had the previous days, in time to watch the sun rise in the east outside his window. In his sleep shorts, Goku performed a long, meditative kata, syncing his movements to his breath, clearing his mind and energizing his body. The cool air from outside felt good on his naked skin, as did the rising sun’s warm rays. He stayed thoughtless, maintained clarity in his senses, even as he moved faster in the middle of the room. The smell of clean sheets. The sound of Saiyans from the bazaar outside the castle walls. The march of soldiers outside the window, down below. The sensation of his bare feet on solid stone. The touch of lips—lips over his—Vegeta’s lips—

Goku paused mid-kata to shake his head. But more thoughts came. Vegeta’s gloved fingertips on his cheek. His palm. That one kiss. His smile. His smirk mid-spar. His laughter, both maniacal and amused. The way Vegeta fought. How smart he was. His pride. That look Vegeta gave him. The look Goku didn’t understand, but his body somehow did, because it never failed to react, his stomach doing flips, his heart beating faster, his breath catching. A look he needed an answer to, soon. 

When the call came that breakfast was ready, Goku was prepared, already in his gi. He found himself there alone with the King and Chikora first, where they spoke pleasantries—the King, of course, cracking a bad joke about timeliness to Goku, which Chikora admonished and Goku laughed over. The twins arrived soon after, rubbing sleep from their eyes, yawning and grumbling about wanting more rest. But at the sight of Goku, they perked right up and babbled in Sadalan about how they weren’t tired anymore, Goku was here, he was going to train them after, right, he wasn’t late this time, he made it, he was early even, how great. Goku couldn’t help but lean over the table to ruffle their hair each, the twins laughing and swatting at his hands. Finally, Vegeta arrived in his usual regalia, and Goku’s body reacted like usual: the stomach flips, the heart thumping, the throat closing, the heat rising on his cheeks.

But something new rose up as he looked at Vegeta, the sunlight creeping through the stained glass windows casting him in a golden-silvery light, tinted with oranges and reds. A pit of warmth built up in his stomach too. Same in his chest, that warmth. Then his throat. His legs too. And it all went down, up, around, centering right onto—onto his—his—

_Oh no._

Goku flopped back into his seat with a skid, causing everyone at the table to unfortunately look right at him, and he hoped his face didn’t look _that_ red in that moment.

To his horror, Vegeta said, “Are you okay, Kakarot?”

He forced a grin, turning to his side, where Vegeta began to sit down, next to him. “Yep! Just a bit dizzy, hehe.” He scratched the back of his head with one hand, while the other laid right over his crotch, where the damned heat was and didn’t have any hint of dying down whatsoever. “I think I’m hungry!”

Vegeta smirked, and _that_ only made things worse down there, between Goku’s legs. “You always are.” Same with the affection in those words he said. The affection and the amusement.

Goku resisted the urge to squeeze his legs together or cross them. As breakfast continued, he focused on the food and the conversations around him, not the embarrassing reaction going on between his legs. It did die down once he got his hands on some food, at least. But he couldn’t figure out why he reacted that way to Vegeta—why he felt those things _there_ of all places. Yes, Vegeta was attractive, but not even Chichi made him react like that just by being around him. Only when she dressed a certain way or when she tried ‘flirting’ like she called it or when she started kissing him around his chest or stroked his butt that he felt like that. But Vegeta did none of that. He just came in, and the light hit him right, and then _that_ happened.

His treacherous mind kept him on those thoughts, but replaced Chichi with Vegeta, and that only brought back the heat between his legs. He focused on chewing, the taste of the food, the conversation around him, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. Vegeta being the one who kissed his chest. Vegeta being the one who rubbed his back. Vegeta being the one who grabbed his butt and smirked at him and—

“Kakarot?”

He blinked a few times, his body tingling all over. That heat inside of him, between his legs, it was everywhere, and he felt legitimately dizzy this time. He turned to his side, where Vegeta sat, a fork of food resting on an empty plate. “Yeah?”

“The twins are wondering if you’re done eating.”

“Oh. Oh!” He shoved a spoonful of whatever was in front of him, forcing yet another grin onto his face. “Almost!” He turned his attention to the twins across the table. “Gimme a few minutes and we’ll go spar, promise!”

Goku took his time eating what was left of his meal, even asking for one more serving of fruit before he felt ready to go. The heat was gone, at least, and he didn’t have to risk embarrassment anymore, especially in front of the twins and Vegeta. A war started in his mind when Vegeta tagged along with him and the twins to the ambuwa gumisou, part of him thrilled that Vegeta was coming with again, the other part frustrated over it, because if he somehow lost control again, if that heat returned in some way, and Vegeta _saw that_ —and worse still, with the twins there too—he wouldn’t know what to do except to go into hiding until the day they left. There was no way to recover from it, and Goku knew he wouldn’t be able to confront Vegeta about it, if it happened.

But it didn’t, thankfully. For the whole two hours he spent training the twins, nothing out of the ordinary happened with his body. It was different from last time when Vegeta watched him spar. No longer did Goku feel judged by him. He only felt excitement, even a little competitive. Vegeta thought he was a good teacher and Goku had the urge to prove him right, so he worked the twins a little harder, instructed them more, gave them more feedback, caught them when they tried any underhanded tactics, praised them when they clearly worked hard and gave it their all. He only caught Vegeta’s attention once, to see if he was watching, really watching, and the sight of Vegeta’s smirk—the visible _pride_ on his face, for _him_ —sent Goku’s heart and stomach out of control. But that warmth wasn’t there, at least. Warm around his body, but thankfully not between his legs.

Once the twins took their leave, he found Vegeta walking towards him with that smirk and a glint in his eyes that almost, _almost_ made his legs buckle, but he stayed still. He knew that glint, that look. He offered his hand to Vegeta, who took it, and with the other, Goku instant transmissioned them to the wasteland, where Vegeta wasted no time in coming after him hard. He didn’t bother taking off his cape or his necklace like last time. He just dove right in and started punching, which caught Goku off guard and he laughed hard over it. Goku fought back just as aggressive as Vegeta, the adrenaline pumping, his senses on high alert, the thrill of fighting someone like Vegeta overpowering any other thoughts or feelings inside. All that mattered was the fight and the challenge. Not the world around them, not what was happening between them, nothing but this, and he _loved_ it.

Every punch felt like a catharsis. Every kick, every scrape, every hit. Vegeta tested him, kept him on his toes, made him think and react in ways he never believed possible. The exhilaration of this fight, of the unknown, of what Vegeta could do, of the power and prowess Vegeta possessed—Goku couldn’t get enough of it and didn’t want this to end ever. He could fight Vegeta forever. Other fighters would come and he definitely knew there were many out there, many who were stronger, more powerful, but none would give him this excitement, this _pleasure_ —

Goku’s face heated up to the point of pain.

He dodged Vegeta’s next punch and flew a foot away, shaking his head.

Like last time, Vegeta frowned, glaring at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” A fake chuckle, like last time. He even scratched the back of his head again. “I think I’m hungry is all!”

“Really.”

“A’yup!” Goku powered down. “Wanna go get something to eat?”

Like last time, Vegeta obviously didn’t believe him, just by his glare, his frown, the curl of his nose, the burrowing of his eyebrows. But unlike last time, Vegeta pressed on. “You’re a terrible liar, Kakarot.”

“I’m not! I swear I’m fine.”

“Then why is your face red?”

“Um.” The ground seemed to swallow up from underneath him. “I, uh.” His face felt way, way hotter than ever before. “I—I’m, uh—” And there it was—that heat, between his legs, at the wrong, worst time, and Vegeta was right there. “I…”

He felt rooted in place as he watched Vegeta’s gaze drift down. Right to his crotch. Right where the warmth resided and kept growing.

All he heard was his own heartbeat in his head, drumming loudly, over and over again.

Vegeta stared. Stared, right at it. Right at him, right there, where nothing could be hidden, everything could be seen—he could see it, Goku could feel it, and the world tilted, his body shook, the sight of Vegeta in his vision shook, and the urge to bolt, to run, rose higher, his mind screaming at him to leave, to get away—

Then, Vegeta smirked, and Goku forgot to breathe for a moment.

That smirk, paired with the slow drag of his eyes, up his torso, to his face, as if Vegeta was stroking his skin with his eyes alone, and Goku felt himself shiver from head to toe.

That voice. “Well now.” Smoldering. “I see someone’s a little—” Teasing. “Excited.” Sensual.

Goku couldn’t move. If he was breathing, he couldn’t hear it or feel it. All he saw was Vegeta and the bright blue sky behind him. All he felt was the ground beneath his feet and the heat coming from his pelvis. All he heard was his erratic heart beat pounding away at his chest, pounding in his ears.

One step at a time, Vegeta closed the gap between them. The crunch of his boots on dirt. That smirk and his black, heavy-lidded eyes. The heat from his body, adding to the heat Goku felt consumed by.

Totally in control. Vegeta was absolutely in control.

His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of Vegeta’s fingertips touching his cheek. He leaned into it, a tremor of fear running up and down his spine, warring with the growing need and heat between his legs. They ran down to his jaw, tilting it down, and the anticipation, the waiting, the need for Vegeta to do something, _anything_ —

A light gasp slipped out when Vegeta’s lips touched his. Soft, like before. Gentle. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just his lips meeting his. Vegeta’s lips, over his.

Another gloved hand, cupping the back of his neck now. Gloved fingertips, running along the base of his hairline, over the skin, and Goku _shivered_ like he was in cold ice, despite the sun beating down warm rays onto his body. Vegeta tilted his head again, a little to the side, and Goku let him, he followed him, his hands trembling by his sides. Confusion. Warmth. _What, what is—_ Vegeta’s lips pulling away, only to rest over his again, and— _Vegeta_ —Goku dared to try, to kiss him back, to return in kind, adding pressure to this second kiss.

The hand on the back of his neck squeezed. Another gasp slipped out, a shot of warmth pooling at the bottom of his belly, and Vegeta pulled back to kiss the side of his jaw for some reason, but it felt good. Really good. Vegeta planted kisses there, one kiss, two kiss, soft gentle kisses under the jawline, up to his ear, and Goku gasped again when he felt something slimy run under his earlobe. Wet and warm and he realized it was Vegeta’s tongue, Vegeta’s tongue was around his earlobe, sucking it in, sucking it into his mouth, and the thought made him squirm in place, because he should’ve pushed away, but it felt _so good_. Vegeta’s tongue licked the skin, Vegeta’s teeth nibbled on it, Vegeta’s hand gripped his neck firm, holding him in place—controlling him, holding him—and he couldn’t stop his hands from clinging to Vegeta’s back as Vegeta’s other hand left his face to run all the way down his side, over his ribcage, the side of his waist, right to his hip, and _shoved_ their bodies together.

Heat met heat. Vegeta’s crotch against his. The stone around his neck pushed against his chest. Hot. All over. Vegeta was hot, and he was warm too, right there. A hardness like his, and his teeth chattered at the sensations building up there, how _amazing_ it felt to have Vegeta rubbing up against him, Vegeta’s mouth on him, Vegeta’s hand on his hip, holding him in place, and he heard panting, soft panting and soft gasps, and realized that was himself. He was doing that. He was making these sounds as he clutched onto Vegeta’s back and held on for dear life.

Vegeta’s mouth left his earlobe with a loud _pop_. But he didn’t stop. He licked down the side of his neck, and Goku bucked into him, a whimper slipping out, beyond his control. He felt Vegeta’s tongue make small circles there, right against his neck, down to the juncture, right over his upper trap, his tongue and nose burying underneath the gi there to find the skin and he cried out when Vegeta bit down and bit down _hard_. He squeezed Vegeta’s back hard in response, his legs trembling, but it felt good. Everything felt good. Bites shouldn’t feel good, it felt painful, but it was a good pain, a really good pain, and it made no sense, nothing made sense. But the more Vegeta sucked the skin, tongued it, moved his head, almost bobbing a little, sucked and bit and sucked more, Goku wanted more. He needed more.

He felt his hands trying to move up Vegeta’s back, trying to get to his head, to get him to do more, to guide him elsewhere, but he couldn’t get beyond Vegeta’s shoulders. It didn’t matter, because Vegeta removed his hand on his neck to shove the orange fabric to the side and bite him again, sucking the skin hard, and Goku threw his head back with a sharp hiss, his hips bucking forward automatically, and it felt _amazing_ to hear and feel Vegeta’s moan against his shoulder. To feel Vegeta bucking back against him, a gloved hand at his hip, bruising him there too. That felt good too.

All this heat between them. The new, strange, good sensations. Dizzy. His legs were jelly. _He_ felt like jelly. The pain and the pleasure, the smell of Vegeta, his mouth, his groan when Goku bucked back into him again, to see what it felt like, to show Vegeta he liked it too because he was incapable of saying anything with words—it was too much and not enough. These clothes were too much. Vegeta was not giving enough. He needed more. He needed Vegeta, needed him to—to just—to—

The hand on his hip slid down to his knee and lifted up.

The world flipped. Goku flipped, onto his back. Vegeta flipped him onto his back.

Dirt hit his back. Dirt in his nostrils, along with more of Vegeta’s scent. Vegeta, right between his open legs. Vegeta’s crotch against his—and he whined as Vegeta _moved_ , rubbing their hard cocks together through their clothes.

Lips left his neck for his mouth again. Vegeta’s tongue slipped in for the first time, meeting his, and he had no idea what to do, how to respond, what Vegeta even expected him to do. But Vegeta didn’t seem to mind, pulling back to only dive in again, both of his gloved hands diving into Goku’s hair and holding on. His tongue licked his, ran against his, saliva met saliva, and Goku moaned at the sensations, the heat, the warmth, Vegeta’s taste, Vegeta’s hands, Vegeta’s body thrusting against his, and he clutched Vegeta harder, sunk his fingers into his shoulders and moved his tongue with Vegeta’s on the next kiss.

 _New, brand new,_ Goku responded in kind, gentler, tentative, _he’s, he’s so good_ , meeting Vegeta’s tongue, mimicking Vegeta’s movements, _so good, different, new_ , meeting Vegeta’s thrusts, rubbing up against him too, _oh God, what is, what is this, what_ , moaning into Vegeta’s mouth, moaning when Vegeta groaned into his, _what is, what’s happening, I don’t, oh God,_ Vegeta’s fingers in his hair, Vegeta holding him, Vegeta kissing him, _oh God, Vegeta, so good, it’s so good_ , and Goku kissed him back, his trembling arms moving so he could hug Vegeta to him, hold him closer, keep him there, keep him moving, _don’t, don’t stop, oh God Vegeta, please_ , and Vegeta responded, titling his head a little up and deepening the kiss even more.

He couldn’t stop trembling all over. _Vegeta._ The heat between them, _oh Vegeta,_ the heat between his legs, _Vegeta, please,_ it built and grew the more Vegeta kissed him, _oh God,_ the more Vegeta thrusted, _oh God I’m,_ and Goku couldn’t stop moving, _I’m gonna,_ couldn’t stop kissing Vegeta back, _I shouldn’t,_ couldn’t stop moaning, _I can’t,_ and gasping, _I CAN’T—_

Goku squeaked into Vegeta’s mouth, coming in his pants.

His face burned. Sticky wetness in his crotch made it worse. But Vegeta’s thrusts, Vegeta’s tongue, Vegeta’s hot breath, it helped distract him from wanting to burrow into the dirt.

A few more thrusts, and he felt it too, right against him. Vegeta shaking all over, under his hands. Vegeta’s loud grunt and long, drawn out moan, reverberating everywhere. He pulled away from the kiss to plant more kisses along Goku’s jawline, up to his sweaty cheek, and Goku shivered at how good that felt against his flushed skin.

Vegeta’s nose pressed against his temple, his hot breathing came in quick pants. He could even feel Vegeta’s heartbeat against his chest, how fast it was going, like his own.

Slowly, Vegeta’s hands slid out of his hair, down to his chest, laying there.

Goku opened his eyes. A blue sky above him, slightly obscured by the tufts of Vegeta’s hair on the right side of his vision.

He felt his breathing return to normal at the same time as Vegeta’s. Heartbeat too.

Warm skin. Vegeta’s warm body. His warm breath, tickling his skin and his hair. His smell. How good he felt. How good and nice and new this was.

The stickiness between his legs didn’t feel good though. Goku wrinkled his nose, squirming a little. This was the part he didn’t like whenever he did this with—

He froze all over.

_Oh God._

Above him, Vegeta began to move off him, pressing his hands against his chest. Goku relaxed his hold on him, sliding his hands down to Vegeta’s hips. He felt Vegeta brush his lips against his cheek before he sat up to look down at him.

That look he had no name for was back. That smile too. The sight accompanied with Vegeta’s pink cheeks, his red lips, his sweaty skin—it pushed back Goku’s dark thoughts for now, because all he could think of was one word: _Beautiful._ Like when he saw Vegeta do that dance, the echu batwa. Lost in the moment. Commanding the dance. Everything Vegeta did with him, here, together.

Vegeta lifted one gloved hand up to his cheek. Fingertips brushed his wet skin up and down. Gentle strokes. Gentle touches.

Complete adoration.

 _M’yo mah’kha,_ that vision Vegeta said. And Goku could see those words now on Vegeta, without them being uttered whatsoever.

He smiled in return, leaning into those touches with a tilt of his head.

Vegeta chuckled, pulling his hand away. He came to his feet first, offering a hand to Goku to help him up. Goku took it, his legs wobbly as he stood up, and he blushed when Vegeta steadied a hand onto his lower back, as if it was normal. As if Vegeta always did that their entire lives.

“Let’s get back to the palace and clean up,” Vegeta said. “Then we can go practice your Sadalan.”

Goku nodded. He opened his mouth, but his voice didn’t cooperate. Nothing with his body cooperated. He felt weird, unstable, like a newborn colt. He was still shaking from before, still warm, but sticky, and sweaty, and dirty, and he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t believe this happened, couldn’t believe he and Vegeta did this, couldn’t stop this, couldn’t get his body to listen and cooperate, couldn’t do anything, and he should’ve, he should’ve stopped this, he should’ve and he _didn’t_ —

Vegeta slid his hand away from Goku’s back to press two fingers to his forehead. No judgement. No beamusement. No words passed. Like before, it took a few moments, but Vegeta didn’t look away from him as they transmissioned back to the palace, landing in front of the door to Goku’s room.

He drifted his hand down, the other still holding onto Goku’s. “Take as much time as you need.”

Goku wanted to reply, to say something. But still, his voice wouldn’t cooperate. His body still shook all over. He wanted nothing more than to dive into the shower and scrub his skin raw, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, and it would only hurt him instead. And part of him knew, deep down, he didn’t want to scrub away everything. He couldn’t, even though he should’ve. He couldn’t, and it hurt that he couldn’t.

A strong squeeze to his hand.

He blinked away the sudden fuzziness coming to his vision, refocusing on Vegeta.

Stoic as usual. Emotionless face. Impassive as ever. But the conviction in his words said it all. “You did nothing wrong.”

Guilt punched his chest and heart. He nodded his head, unable to hold back the burning wetness crowding the edges of his vision.

Vegeta leaned in to kiss his cheek, squeezing his hand one last time. “I will respect your decision always, Kakarot.” Nose to skin. Hot breath against his ear. Beautiful Sadalan in a throaty whisper. “M’yo mah’kha.”

As one, Vegeta let go of his hand and turned away, his cape billowing behind him. Goku couldn’t watch him go this time.

He stumbled into his room, stumbled his way to the bathroom too. He fumbled with the knobs for too long, almost growling in frustration. The perfect temperature hit, and he reached for a scrub and the soap bar in the shower. He took his time moving it over his body, letting the water do most of the job in wiping away the dirt and grime and cum. His mind tried to betray him as he cleaned himself—Vegeta’s hot breath, Vegeta’s hands, Vegeta’s kiss and his arms and—Goku turned the water to frigid cold, landing it right over his crotch. He hissed in pain, but knew it was the right thing to do.

Once he felt in control and cleaned, he towel dried himself and stared at the extra orange gi in the closet, his stomach churning at the sight. He reached for the Sadalan armor inside and took his time putting it on, leaving the buckles last.

Goku spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, meditating. He worked hard to keep his mind void of thoughts. Each time, Vegeta kept popping into his mind. Each time, his body heated up. Each time, he growled and resisted the urge to slap himself stupid, as well as the urge to berate himself mentally.

At dinner with the royal family, Goku knew he was out of character. He stayed mostly quiet, responding and interacting when someone asked him a question. But he couldn’t fake being animated like he had earlier, when he first arrived to the planet. He didn’t have the heart for it. Chikora, of course, gave him a look that meant they’d talk later, but it didn’t feel right talking to her about this—about what he did with Vegeta. It had to stay between them. No one else needed or had to know.

Being next to Vegeta felt weird and awful at the same time. Weird because even after what they did, Goku _still_ wanted to be next to him. He still wanted to have Vegeta there. He still liked being around Vegeta. But awful, because, they did that. He crossed a line. Even though Vegeta said it wasn’t his fault, Goku didn’t believe it. He couldn’t.

He left dinner first, wishing everyone there goodnight. Vegeta’s ki didn’t follow him. But he did feel Vegeta’s eyes on him as he exited the chambers.

That night, in his room, wrapped up in the sheets, Goku didn’t hug Vegeta’s pillow to his chest at first. He tossed and turned for an hour before he rolled onto his side, grabbed the damned pillow and squeezed it tight in both of his arms. Only then was he able to fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

_Seven days ago…_

Sitting across from Chikora in her room, with books and crystals situated between them on her table, Vegeta nodded his head. “Kohltavi helped me.”

“How?” The desperation and confusion mixed with her awe. “You couldn’t have helped Goku if you two weren’t mates.”

“The fusion,” he lied. “It created a faint r’bhon’or. Enough where I could help him and she showed me what to do. That’s why I’m here. I want to know more about r’bhon’or.”

Chikora visibly swallowed. She shook a little as she stood from the table, turning away. Her voice sounded hoarse, a little wet. “If only we had known then…” In front of her massive bookcase, she floated up into the air, reaching up high to the very last shelf and grabbing a thick blue book. When she landed and turn around, a few fresh tears lingered on her cheeks. She met Vegeta’s eye. “This is everything we know about r’bhon’oa.” She wiped at her cheeks as she walked back. “The history, the stories of those who had it and the ways to manipulate and practice it.”

Vegeta took the book when she offered it. “D’in m’yo.”

“Uzko du Soli that Goku has someone like you.” She took her seat again, wiping the residue tears leftover on her lashes. “My apologies. Mother had dra’zela. She didn’t survive because she had no mah’kha. She was only father’s urave. We had no idea about fusions until Kefla was created. Not even Kohltavi had heard of it until then. But if we had known…” She shook her head. “But I can’t change what was. Only praise the goddesses that we have it now, should we need it. Will you be telling Goku about the r’bhon’or then, between you two?”

“Eventually.”

“It’s important you tell him soon. Even if it’s a ‘faint’ one like Lady Kohltavi said, there’s a potential for it to create some changes between you two. Mainly _vakalelo_. That’s usually the first thing that happens between mah’kha’or.”

The word didn’t translate in Vegeta’s head easily. “What does that entail?”

“Sensing the other’s emotions. You know what your mah’kha is feeling. How intense it is depends on the strength of the r’bhon’or, and on who of the two mah’kha’or is more in touch with umoya. You both know techniques that require manipulation of ki, so _vakalelo_ could potentially happen for both of you at the same time, but again, this might not even occur to begin with.”

“I see.” Vegeta glanced at the book for a moment before returning his attention to Chikora. “Does this book also discuss mah’kha’or by any chance?”

“Of course it does.” Then, she smiled, a very small, sly smile.

“It’s just precautionary,” he said.

“I’m sure it is.”

“I have no feelings for Kakarot,” he lied again.

“So you say—”

A couple loud knocks on the door, followed by an equally loud shout. “Hey Vegeta! Chikora!”

Vegeta felt his cheeks burn. He glared at Chikora when she grinned from ear-to-ear and shouted back in reply, “It’s open!”

He composed himself well enough when Goku entered, staying calm and composed as Goku and Chikora spoke. Vegeta watched her gather up the crystals, and the book he came for, and he nearly stopped her from taking it away. Instead, he kept his attention on Goku, talking with him, unable to stop himself from chuckling at how excited Goku was when he talked about his parents, in particular his mother. Never did he think Goku would ever find himself wanting to know more about his Saiyan side. He had given up on that many years ago. But now here was Goku, proud of his heritage, excited to learn more about his parents, and how thrilled he was to know this.

The composure Vegeta felt gave way for a moment when Chikora suggested the two of them go off to the yokuthensai together so Vegeta could help Goku practice his Sadalan. But he caught himself and regained control when he agreed with her and turned to Goku, offering to hear more about what Goku learned. Goku’s smile, Goku’s hand grabbing his, Goku’s laughter—if it wasn’t for the fact that he was lagging behind the man that dragged him down the hallway, he was sure Goku would see the bright red blush on his face.

The rest of the afternoon and evening went by in a blur. Vegeta helped Goku work on his Sadalan, listened to him as he talked about his parents, General Bardock and sweet Gine. He asked questions, participated in conversation, corrected Goku on his Sadalan as needed. It felt nice, being with Goku here, in the yokuthensai, like this. It felt good. Thanks to the King giving him money to use as he saw fit, Vegeta bought everything Goku desired, including the inyama he’ga’toa for each of them. Every time Goku thanked him with that big smile of his and the sincerity in his voice, Vegeta worked extra hard to keep his composure, because a huge part of him wanted to reply back in more than words, but with touches. It wasn’t time yet. He wasn’t ready to show that to Goku just yet. Yes, Goku was his mah’kha, but Goku didn’t know that, and he wasn’t ready to divulge it to him, because who knew how Goku would take it.

He was grateful to the goddesses when Goku and he re-entered through the palace walls that Goku wasn’t looking at him whatsoever. When Goku confessed to him his prejudices against Saiyans, apologized for it all, how matter-of-fact he sounded admitting he was a Saiyan, how grateful that Vegeta didn’t die during their first fight, how sweet he was when Goku thanked him for coming with him—Vegeta almost fainted from how intense he was blushing. He wanted nothing more than to grab Goku, force his head down and kiss him right there and then, in front of every Saiyan wandering the palace grounds. He wanted to show Goku how much he appreciated everything he said, because he heard the conviction, the sincerity in those words, in his voice, and Vegeta knew Goku meant it all, right from his heart, and he couldn’t believe how blessed he was having a mah’kha like this.

Because Goku wasn’t looking at him, he didn’t see how Vegeta had to close his eyes, had to squeeze his fists, had to hold his breath and release it in an undetectable exhale. Then, he whispered, “You’re welcome,” and he delighted in the sight of watching Goku blush, watching Goku stumble over his words, listen to Goku’s awkward laugh and watch Goku basically transmission away in a rush. He chuckled as he entered the palace, finishing up the treat he bought them at the yokuthensai.

That evening, during the ceremony of the final week celebrating Soli—the m’na’kubula—Vegeta thanked the goddesses for guiding him to his mah’kha. He thought of Goku, their time together—from their first fight, to Namek, to Cell, to Buu, Zamasu, the Tournament of Power, Moro—and he settled on the memory of what could be, what his goddess Tor bestowed upon him. Goku in his golden umoya, shinning like the sun, kissing his hand as he knelt on the ground, whispering to him words of affection, and he harnessed that into his own ball of light and shot it up into the sky as others did.

In the sea of Saiyans, Vegeta easily located Goku’s ki. As he came closer, he found Goku sending his own light up into the sky above, dressed in the Sadalan armor. His eyes sparkled like bright stars, filled with unshed tears. The light seemed to frame his body, casting shadows at just the right angle on his face.

He knew when Goku sensed him. The recognition on his face. The small smile he had. turned to him and Vegeta held back his gasp. The light around him. Part of him. The very faint, very light blush on his cheeks. His liquid black eyes. Goku, in this Sadalan armor, on this planet, surrounded by fellow Saiyans, and he looked at peace. At home.

His mate. His mah’kha.

Goku jerked his attention away, the blush intensifying, and Vegeta could feel the embarrassment—literally feel it in his own body. Embarrassment, confusion, and—he smiled—affection. Confused affection, but it was affection nonetheless.

It felt right, being next to Goku like this. Listening to Chikora sing an ancient Sadalan song, the song of Soli and Tor. Surrounded by Saiyans, engulfed in the white light of memories. He placed his hand to the small of Goku’s back, and a spike of excitement ran through Vegeta, followed by the same embarrassment as before, and he stayed composed and still as Goku’s emotions came through the r’bhon’or.

As much as he wanted to linger behind, to talk to Goku, the urge to kiss him was still there. So he walked away once others began to as well, wishing the man goodnight. As he walked away, he felt Goku’s confusion again, and a new emotion too, one that struck him in the chest like a punch.

Yearning. Goku yearned, for him, and the emotion paired up with confusion. Goku yearned, and he had no idea why.

Once back in his room, Vegeta found the book he asked from Chikora there on top of his bed, as well as a note written in Sadalan.

 _Tell him soon,_ it said.

He crumpled it up, throwing the note into the trash.

***

_Six days ago…_

In the King’s personal chambers, Vegeta sat adjacent to him in front of the computer that ate up the entire wall. The King typed away at the large keyboard, while Vegeta futzed around with the papers strewn across the countertop.

“This shouldn’t take so long,” the King said, “but I have a meeting in a few days with the Tecetuns and they’re one of our most vital traders.”

"More than fine, m’yo Ve’ho.” Vegeta tossed a few papers to the floor. “I’m happy to help.”

“We should be done soon. The Tecetuns are extremely thorough in their questions and requests, so it’s important to be as prepared as possible.”

“Understood.”

The King continued typing away at the keyboard. Vegeta kept his focus on organizing the papers, tossing what wasn’t important, keeping what was.

Then the King said, “I see Goku recovered.”

Vegeta nodded.

“You two must be mah’kha’or then.”

“We aren’t,” he lied. “Fusion caused a small r’bhon’or.”

The King abruptly stopped typing. Vegeta looked up to see the shocked look on his face, the awe and the hurt—all emotions he quickly buried, turning stoic and neutral. “I see.”

“Kohltavi helped.”

“Uzko du Soli that Goku was saved.” The King returned to typing, turning away from Vegeta. “If only my Queen had been so lucky.”

Vegeta paused his shuffling of papers. Guilt built up inside. A lot of guilt that felt foreign and weird. He opened his mouth, paused, and then said, “You should speak to him.”

“Goku?”

He nodded. “He will know what to say.”

“About…?”

“This.” Vegeta fidgeted in his seat, continuing to move the papers around, but much more aimless than before. “He has no hate in his heart and no filter either. He will know what to say to you. About your urave.”

He heard the King’s soft “hmm” and then his grunt of affirmation. Then the typing returned and Vegeta suppressed the urge to blush as he organized more papers for the King. The image of Goku—his big smile, his understanding guileless ways, his big warm hugs—hit his mind and his heart and he worked hard to not allow that to show in his actions whatsoever. No one had to know his feelings. No one needed to know. Especially not Goku. Not yet.

Vegeta found later he was too late.

Goku’s simmering anger, his frustration and hurt over the betrayal—it all stabbed Vegeta’s heart again and again. Betrayal for not knowing the truth, about dra’zela, about mah’kha’or, about the r’bhon’or. Betrayal for Vegeta not telling him sooner, having to hear it from someone else, from Chikora.

Vegeta admitted the truth then, in that garden, the truth he wasn’t ready just yet to admit, but he had to now. He had no choice. He stared at the tree and admitted it—that they were mates.

He waited for the yell, the shout, the surprise. He waited for any type of anger, anymore pain of betrayal.

The hope that maybe Goku might feel the same way. The feelings Goku had, the sensations Vegeta absorbed from the _vakalelo_ , maybe they were real. Maybe it was true. 

Nothing in his life hurt as bad as Goku saying he wanted to break the r’bhon’or.

His heart and his mind worked as one, screaming together one word: _no_.

He let the truth come out. He told Goku everything—how he had that opportunity, but didn’t take it. How he’d refuse to do it even now. If Goku wanted to get rid of the r’bhon’or, Vegeta would accept it, but he wasn’t going to be the one who did it. Goku could do it. Not him. Not after what Tor showed him in that other world. Not after seeing Goku in that world. Not after feeling what he felt. Goku was his mah’kha, and he was at peace. He wasn’t giving that up.

Every word. Everything Goku said. The sincerity and need behind it all. Vegeta wanted to stop him, wanted him to reconsider. But he let Goku go. He accepted it. Goku needed to do what he believed he had to do, and Vegeta would accept it and respect it.

But he couldn’t help feeling like it was a goodbye to what could’ve been, when Goku started to leave the gardens for Kohltavi. And he voiced it aloud as he left for his room. Of course Goku said they’d always be friends, and yes, Vegeta would allow that to happen. But to him, Goku wasn’t his friend anymore. He couldn’t be. But Vegeta would learn to live with it. He knew how to adapt and survive.

He spent the rest of the day meditating and reading the book on r’bhon’or and _vakalelo_ , leaving only to eat with the royal family. When he felt Goku’s ki reappear in his room in the castle later on, Vegeta suppressed the urge to tap into the r’bhon’or and _vakalelo_. If it wasn’t there anymore—if he couldn’t feel Goku’s emotions anymore…

Vegeta slept early that night, in hopes to forget the day and move on faster. But he didn’t sleep dreamless. He dreamt only one dream, and it didn’t feel like it was his own. He saw Goku in the darkness, a familiar darkness. Goku stared at him, dressed in the Sadalan black armor, and Vegeta saw his own self staring back at him. That other Vegeta was a carbon copy of himself, glowing silver like his own umoya did, and it hit Vegeta what this was, what he was seeing, and his breath caught when he watched his other self reach his hand out to Goku, and Goku hesitating, a visible war on his face, and Vegeta urged him to do it, to touch his other self’s hand, to take it.

He woke the moment Goku’s hand fell into that outstretched hand, and emotions flooded into him as he sat up. Confusion. Sadness. Embarrassment.

Need. Yearning need, and palpable fear.

Vegeta smiled.

It wasn’t gone. It was still there.

The r’bhon’or was still there.

***

_Five days ago…_

Staying away from Goku the whole day was surprisingly easy. It helped that Goku blatantly avoided him, and Vegeta knew he was. Not only could he sense Goku’s ki turning away or bolting away whenever their ki’s came close, but he could read through the vakalelo Goku’s confusion, fear and yearning. The man flipped through each emotion so fast and rapidly that Vegeta had to suppress the vakalelo most of the day, else a headache arose. How Goku dealt with his warring mind and emotions, Vegeta had no idea.

Most of his own day, Vegeta spent it on his own, reading the book on r’bhon’or. In one chapter, he found the correlation between mah’kha’or and dreams, and it made his own dream the previous night make sense. Whoever of the two was more sensitive to umoya could delve into his mah’kha’ir dreams. The more sensitive mah’kha could also send their own emotions over the r’bhon’or through the vakalelo.

By the evening, Vegeta tired of Goku’s warring emotions. He knew the man was meditating at that time, and even then, his emotions were out of control. He fell into meditation himself, with the r’bhon’or book open next to him. A page on tapping vakalelo was held open, in place with a nearby pen. He occasionally glanced at the page, falling back to meditating, but whatever he was trying to do wasn’t working. Goku’s emotions were still out of control. By the time he felt like he was getting somewhere, Goku had finished meditating, and Vegeta knew he was back to being lucid again. There was no way to practice again. But at least he seemed a lot calmer than before. Vegeta didn’t possess as violent as a headache as beforehand.

But as he prepared for sleep, he knew Goku was back to his bad dreams again. Vegeta’s pounding headache returned worse than before. He left the shower, closed his eyes and laid his palms flat down onto the bathroom counter. Concentrating. Searching inside.

A warmth built up in his chest. Up to his forehead. Soothing his own headache. Running down the back of his neck like the warm water from his shower.

Build it, the book said. Build upon it and send it out.

He thought of light, of warmth. Of Goku’s smile and his laughter. His gentleness and sweetness and naivety. The sun itself. Goku as the sun itself.

A ball of warm light formed in the darkness of his vision. Warm, silver light, from the depths of his own self. Vegeta imagined reaching out to it, holding it in his palms and sent it out, down a ‘path’ he could feel, for some reason, somehow. Then it left. It disappeared, fading away from his view, and a few seconds later, he felt Goku’s emotions simmer to nothing but peace. Nothing but comfort.

Vegeta flew his eyes wide open. He smiled at his reflection.

***

_Four days ago…_

He knew something was different in Goku before the man even awoke. Vegeta laid in bed and knew Goku was asleep via the r’bhon’or, while the vakalelo told him what he was feeling. Fear. Uncertainty. Longing. Need. Passion—unbridled passion and a deep seated fear of it. He could feel that passion seep into his own body, centering right to his own crotch, and Vegeta shut his eyes tight so he could concentrate and tap into the r’bhon’or.

A part of him wanted to know what Goku was dreaming of, if his emotions were any indication. The other part though told him not to pry, and he listened to it as he formed a silver light in his mind. As he held onto that light, he searched out for Goku’s own, easily finding it in the darkness. He manifested and harnessed both in his control, but instead of pushing them out, he brought them both inside his own self, and he gasped aloud when Goku’s emotions crashed into his mind.

Vegeta sat up, clutching his beating heart. The pounding against his chest. His throat closing up. Fear. Want. Desperation.

Shame.

He wiped at his eyes, finding unshed tears there. Goku’s unshed tears.

Slowly, he closed them again and concentrated once more.

Again, he found Goku’s light, and he manifested the same ball of silver light as he did the night before. Across the path between them, he sent it out yet again, and like before, he felt Goku relax. Felt his comfort, his ease, and it eased Vegeta as well.

He pressed a hand to his heart, where the pain still lingered.

That shame still lingered too.

Goku looked well when he entered the room for breakfast with the royal family. There was a jolt of fear Vegeta felt run throughout his body, accompanied by a visible shake in Goku’s frame that even Vegeta noticed. But he held back any reaction to the sight and focused his attention on the meal before him.

It didn’t surprise him when Goku threw the twins at the King. He could feel Goku’s trepidation alongside his conviction. The man had made a decision about something then. Something about them, clearly, since the r’bhon’or was still there.

He led Goku out to a meadow after breakfast, over the fields of farmland and domed homes and mountains. There was still fear there, in Goku. Fear that didn’t assuage any of Vegeta’s own fears. Whatever happened though, he’d accept Goku’s decision. He’d respect it.

All that fear in Goku as he spoke, despite how composed he looked. The slight, lingering shame. Vegeta waited for the inevitable, for the rejection. For Goku to tell him no.

What Goku said didn’t outwardly affect him, and he wasn’t afraid of Goku being able to tap into the r’bhon’or whatsoever to then sense his own emotions. Kohltavi couldn’t break the r’bhon’or. Goku wanted things to return to normal. Nothing had to change. Kohltavi gave him the same thing Vegeta had—and he _did_ break, for a moment, when he found out Goku married Chichi on a promise of all things. Of food.

That was when he felt the change in Goku. A sadness. A longing, and a desperation to understand. And Vegeta could see it too, in the way he looked, the way he moved and acted. He was saying he couldn’t break the promise, how he didn’t want to hurt Chichi or Bulma, and Vegeta interjected then to tell the man not to worry about his woman, but his own wife. Then he saw how his jaw set, how his throat tightened, and Vegeta suffocated alongside Goku as he felt everything he was feeling. The desperation and need. The sadness and want. Wanting to do the right thing, fighting with wanting to do what he needed. What he truly desired and didn’t understand.

Vegeta closed the gap between them to touch his cheek.

Warmth. Desperation. Need. It filled the pathway between them, the r’bhon’or, and fueled Vegeta’s decision to do this. To lean in and—

Goku beat him to it first, landing a sloppy, juvenile kiss on the corner of his lips.

Vegeta stared at him when he jerked away, watching his balled up fists shake. His whole body shake. The emotions over the r’bhon’or, the vakalelo.

Shame. Endless amounts of shame.

He closed the gap between them yet again, touching Goku’s forearm.

Both of his gloved hands cupped Goku’s cheeks, his fingers pressing into the scalp, thumbs on his jawline.

His mate. His mah’kha.

Goku opened his eyes when he asked.

Warmth. Longing. Afraid.

His mate was afraid of this, of him. Of whatever was happening.

He leaned in, pulling Goku’s head down.

Soft lips touched. Gentle, warmth breath.

Only one thought ran through Vegeta’s mind, sending it over the r’bhon’or as they kissed _._

_Relax, m’yo mah’kha. Relax._

Slowly, tentatively, he did. He felt Goku relax, and Vegeta had no idea what he felt as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t push Goku, didn’t coerce him into anything. Yearning. Closeness. A little fear, but much less intense than before. Passion. Need. If it was from himself, or from Goku, he didn’t know, nor did it matter.

A soft _smack_ echoed around them when Vegeta pulled away. He opened his eyes first and found Goku lost before him, almost weak from want. His parted, pink lips. Long lashes. Pale skin in his gloved palms. The whisp of his black hair over his forehead.

Goku’s eyes fluttered open, and Vegeta saw it.

That look. The same look he saw in that dream world from Tor.

Complete adoration, for him. From his mah’kha.

All the fear before from Goku vanished. Goku smiled, and Vegeta wanted to kiss him again, kiss that very sweet smile and—

He pulled his hands away, bringing them to his sides.

_Not yet. I can’t._

The rest of the conversation and his day went in a way Vegeta didn’t expect it to go. Courting Goku. He was courting the man now, to help with his decision, to see if this would work. But if the vakalelo and the r’bhon’or were anything to go by, Vegeta already knew that Goku would make his decision well, if not already figure it out before the end of their time here.

Still. He wouldn’t push the man into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. It wasn’t right. That shame still lingered in Goku. He could feel it over the r’bhon’or. The vakalelo said it all. It was wonderful feeling Goku’s random emotions of need and want throughout the day, especially the one that popped out of nowhere mid-spar late at night. But he wasn’t going to push it. Goku needed some time to sit with all of this.

He could feel Goku’s anxiety and excitement. How the emotions gave away his thoughts. The rush of the spar mixed with the rush of newfound feelings. The fear of whatever this was, and the need and longing that sparked that fear. At least these feelings didn’t cause a headache for Vegeta. Instead, he found himself simmering in the feelings of passion and want and his dick responded to it quite well, getting hard more than once as he stood around Goku, felt the small of his back, teased and flirted with Goku, laid in bed and thought of Goku laying in his own bed, thinking of him. But he didn’t touch himself. He couldn’t. These emotions were not his, but Goku’s, and it wasn’t right.

It was still difficult getting to sleep though. Goku’s emotions kept him up for a while, until he tapped into his umoya and sent it over the path in his mind. Once he felt Goku settle into sleep, Vegeta easily found his own.

***

_Three days ago…_

He woke before Goku did in the early morning. Lingering feelings of ease and relaxation kept Vegeta in bed for a little while longer. But he soon felt the urge to do a small workout of his own before breakfast and he went right to it, breaking out push ups, sit ups and squats up to about 1500 reps. By the time he finished his last push up, he felt Goku’s emotions over the r’bhon’or and the vakalelo filled him in: sadness, fear and want, all in one. The usual. But it mixed with shame, and it hurt Vegeta to feel, the ache in his chest intensifying.

Vegeta stood in the middle of his room, closing his eyes. In the darkness of his lids, he imagined the light of his own self, his silver umoya and filled it up. But he grew it larger than any other time before, letting it fill up bigger, glowing brighter, stronger, until Vegeta could hold it back no more and he sent it out into the ether, down the path he felt deep inside. The r’bhon’or.

He felt Goku’s ease, as if letting go a tight breath of air. How he relaxed and felt comforted, whole. It eased the pain in Vegeta’s chest and throat, to the point where he too could breathe again.

With the path between them still open, Vegeta whispered a thought across the blackness. The book said it could be done. If it was effective, he would have to wait and see.

_Sleep, m’yo mah’kha._

He repeated it again and again, sending the thought down the path, accompanied with more of his own silver light.

Little by little, he felt Goku fall deeper into sleep. A restful, needed sleep.

Vegeta opened his eyes.

The vakalelo spoke to him. Peace. Comfort. Warmth.

He rubbed at the leftover ache, over his heart.

That shame, though. Goku’s fear and shame truly hurt.

A cold shower took care of the problem between his legs. It still didn’t feel right to act upon emotions and feelings that were not his own.

At breakfast, Vegeta told the King and Chikora that the man would be late, and they understood well. The twins however did not, and Vegeta was thankful for the King’s tact, telling his children that he would tell them later. That, and the children will be able to train with Goku later, which was enough to calm the hellion twin princes.

He knew when Goku was awake by the vakalelo and by his ki. Emotions flooded in as he read in the gardens, listening to the water features around him. Panic, most likely for missing breakfast. Relief, and he noticed that kicked in when he sensed the King’s ki with Goku’s. Joy and excitement, and the two kis ventured off in the direction of the King’s chambers.

Vegeta concentrated to quiet the vakalelo in his mind, so he could focus on reading the book. Eventually, he sensed no more of Goku’s emotions and was able to read better. It spoke more of the r’bhon’or, on how to practice seeing a mah’kha umoya’ir, how to practice sensing a mah’kha umoya’ir. How to share not just emotions but dreams and thoughts over the r’bhon’or, but the latter seemed extremely complicated to understand, let alone attempt in practice.

By the time he finished reading the book, he left in the direction of the King’s chambers. There, he found Goku and worked hard to stay composed when the King teased him outwardly about his feelings for Goku. Of course, Goku missed the innuendo, and Vegeta had to work extra hard to not let Goku see his blush when the man said he loved fighting Vegeta.

It felt good being with Goku, watching him train the twins. He looked right in his element, sparring with them, teaching them and guiding them. It annoyed him when Goku tried to push his help away, an annoyance that turned into straight-up anger when Goku seemingly appeared to want to hide their relationship. In that moment, listening to Goku explain himself, Vegeta opened up the vakalelo and felt Goku’s emotions. His frustration and sadness, his confusion and—there it was again. The shame. Despite his lingering frustration, Vegeta still reached out to him, still touched his cheek, and he felt his stomach flip when Goku intentionally leaned into it.

The rest of the day went by well. Sparring, eating, Goku’s warring emotions of shame and want. Vegeta practiced harnessing his umoya again at night, when he felt Goku’s fitful dreams, full of that shame. He filled the light with thoughts of peace, of relaxation and—he blushed—affection, and sent that out across the path between them. It worked well enough and he was able to sleep well once he knew Goku was okay.

***

_Yesterday…_

Lust. Vegeta felt it from the moment he woke. His body reacted to it, his dick sticking up under the sheets, painful and red, precum leaking from the tip, but he resisted the temptation to jerk off. He closed his eyes and laid back, opening the r’bhon’or and searching through the vakalelo for Goku’s ever powerful emotions.

The man was awake. His thoughts were focused, zeroed in on fighting. He concentrated a bit more, thinking of what the book said to do. _Sink deeper, reach out, think of touching a smooth surface, think of touching the top of water,_ and he thought it again, and again, until he could feel his mind brush something for a moment.

An image hit his mind. Lips. Lips over his.

Vegeta’s lips, on Goku’s.

Shame ran through the vakalelo. Vegeta groaned as he pulled back, out of Goku’s thoughts, and he concentrated again to shut down the vakalelo and close the r’bhon’or for now.

He laid back in silence, his dick softening over time the more he waited. Goku was thinking of him. He was meditating, maybe even performing a kata, and was thinking of him. His kiss.

Their kiss, and shame over it.

Vegeta sighed.

_Dammit._

He kept the r’bhon’or closed throughout breakfast. As curious as he was over why Goku seemed jumpy and off, he didn’t need to know, and didn’t want to know. After what happened that morning, he didn’t have the desire to try opening up the vakalelo and r’bhon’or again.

The usual day went on. They ate. Vegeta accompanied Goku to the ambuwa gumisou to watch him train the twins. He watched the man train and fight and that lust from earlier nearly ate up Vegeta alive the more he sat there. The determination. His laughter. That smirk on his face, rare as it was, but when it rose, it burned Vegeta’s blood. Taunting, teasing, almost begging to be punched away, the confidence in it, but never malice. Because that smirk always turned into a happy, easy-going, welcoming smile and Vegeta hated it and needed it all the same.

He was still himself. Still Goku. Still naïve. Still very unaware and clueless of most things. But the way he assimilated now, into Sadalan culture. The way he spoke the language and how fast he was picking up on it. How he interacted with everyone in the royal family. How much more _Saiyan_ he looked, while still keeping every piece of himself that made him who he was. Vegeta couldn’t be more proud of someone to call his mah’kha.

The urge to fight overtook his mind. He needed his mah’kha. The lust for battle won out against the lust for anything else, and he knew Goku could see it. He took Goku’s offered hand with ease, and the second Goku transmissioned them out of the training grounds to that wasteland, he was on him, throwing punches left and right that Goku easily countered and returned in kind.

It was a blur of kicks, scrapes and hits. Goku tested him as much as he did. Made him fight smarter, fight better, like usual. He met every trick, every ki blast, every action and didn’t let up whatsoever, like only Goku could give. No one would ever give him this thrill, this excitement, like Goku. No one.

Then Goku stopped, out of nowhere. Like last time. Vegeta almost let it go. Almost. But he opened the r’bhon’or and listened to the vakalelo, because for this to happen again—

Lust hit him right in the gut as he drifted his gaze down, right to Goku’s crotch.

 _Passion._ The man was hard. _Confusion._ Very, very hard. _Uncertainty and need_.

Vegeta smirked.

Goku looked downright petrified of him.

There was no ounce of long kept sadistic glee in Vegeta as he teased the man and sauntered forward, closing the gap between them. No need to dominate or to own or to control. He could feel every emotion from Goku, how it matched the way he looked. Anxious. Perplexed. Desperate. The want and desire. All this _lust_ mixed right with that confusion. This man had no idea what he wanted, or what he was doing, and Vegeta knew what Goku was thinking. There was no need to concentrate on the r’bhon’or to read his thoughts. Vegeta knew, just by looking at him.

Goku had no control. None.

It was all Vegeta’s to have.

Vegeta rested his fingertips onto Goku’s cheek. Felt the tremor of fear against his palm and inside his own body. Felt the heat between them, how close Goku was, his warm breath, his fluttering eyelids—and he leaned in, kissing the man like he did before. Soft, gentle. Not pushing or forcing. He couldn’t do that to Goku, not when he could feel what Goku was feeling. Not when he could sense the underlying shame underneath all the lust and want.

He let Goku’s emotions guide him as much as his noises did. Every gasp, every whimper and every moan matched the emotions swarming Vegeta’s mind. Desperation. Afraid. Neediness. Wanting. That damned shame. He worked hard against that shame, kissing Goku, kissing his neck, trying to make him focus more on what was good, what he was making Goku feel. Little by little, it worked, especially when he flipped Goku onto his back to rub their crotches together. All he felt then was that lust from before, a lust that matched his own.

It ended as soon as it began. Feeling Goku’s orgasm against his own crotch, feeling the sensations he went through as he came—it overwhelmed Vegeta, tipping him over and into his own orgasm in return. He took a moment to compose himself before climbing back to his feet, offering his hand out to Goku.

Vegeta’s hand faltered at what he saw.

Fear, guilt and shame. The damned shame that never went away.

He still touched Goku’s cheek. Still stroked the skin there. The shame didn’t disappear, but it did lessen, just a little. He felt it when it did, and Vegeta sighed in relief when Goku smiled back at him.

Vegeta kissed his cheek, squeezing his hand one last time, reiterating he would always respect Goku’s decision. Over the vakalelo, he felt Goku’s affection, and that was enough to let go of Goku and leave for his own room for the time being.

That night, Vegeta laid in bed, feeling Goku sleep and the emotions his dreams brought up. Frustration. Sadness. Wanting. A little bit of shame still, but not as much as before. He closed his eyes and concentrated on creating a little bit of silver light—and he stopped himself short before it actually appeared in the darkness of his lids.

He rolled to his side, curling up into the sheets. It was easy to shut down the r’bhon’or and vakalelo, a sign he was much more in tune with his umoya than before. But it brought him no joy. He knew Goku wasn’t having good dreams, and he voluntarily wasn’t helping him. It had to be done though. Goku needed to work through whatever this was, on his own. 

***

_Today…_

Time was up.

Goku knew this. He knew tomorrow was it. Whis and Beerus would come and take them back to Universe 6, back to Earth, and he couldn’t return to Chichi without knowing—without making a final, solid decision.

He sat up in bed, watching the sunrise outside his window. The soft wind carried in the voices from outside, the smells from the yokuthensai. Soon the servants would arrive to call him to breakfast. His last breakfast with the royal family. His last time here.

The last day, with Vegeta.

A quick kata didn’t ease his nerves. Nor did the shower he took right after. He slid on his orange gi, eyeing himself in the mirror as he tied the blue sash. No dark circles under his eyes. No bruises on his arms. But there, peaking out from underneath a side of his gi shirt, was a mark. Vegeta’s mark, from his teeth, the purple and red obvious against his pale skin. He pushed the clothing back a little and the mark grew in size and shape. It took up most of the juncture of his shoulder.

He cupped the skin there, pressing the gi over the mark. Images of yesterday appeared, one by one. Vegeta’s lips on his. Vegeta’s tongue on his ear, his neck. Vegeta’s crotch against his. The heat between them. The dirt under his skin. The bright blue sky above. Vegeta’s moans. Vegeta’s taste. The pleasure Goku felt, because of Vegeta.

Goku swallowed, his throat dry.

Vegeta’s look, after all of that. His smile. That look he had no name for still.

_I will always respect your decision, Kakarot._

He looked away from the mirror, closing his eyes.

_M’yo mah’kha._

That whisper. Vegeta’s convincing, soft whisper.

Every step he took walking down the hallway towards the royal chambers felt akin to trudging through the thickest, deepest mud. Difficult to breathe. Difficult to focus. The weight of his thoughts and his memories dragged him, and he was _tired_ of it. Tired of all this thinking, this uncertainty. This was not normal, all foreign and weird and Goku wanted it done and over with. To just move on.

But this decision, this choice, couldn’t be taken lightly. He needed to make a choice and make sure it was the right one. Hurting Chichi was inevitable at this point. He would need to tell her what he and Vegeta did, on top of the ‘courting,’ and who knew how she would react. His gut and his mind agreed on the possible outcome: anger. A lot of anger. His heart hoped for the best, that maybe Chichi would be understanding and forgiving, but it was a faint, stupid hope.

When he entered the chambers, he found Vegeta there, sitting with the royal family. He didn’t look up at him, which he was thankful for. But the King did see him, did gesture him inside and bellowed a loud Sadalan welcome. “ _Wakale_ , Goku!”

Goku faked a small smile in return. “Wakale, m’yo Ve’ho.”

“Nicely done,” Chikora said, lifting her cup of tea to him. She switched over to Sadalan. “Did you have a good rest?”

He didn’t get to answer. The twins cut him off, prattling on in Sadalan, and their infectious enthusiasm turned his fake smile into a genuine one. “Yes, did you, Master Goku?” “It’s the last day with us!” “You better train us hard today.” “We’re going to miss you!” “Yes, agreed!” “Make today count!” “Push us hard, Master Goku!”

“Okay, okay, boys! I’ll do my best.” He chuckled, patting his growling belly. “Food first!” He then turned to Chikora, attempting in Sadalan to reply: “And yes, I slept fine, thank you.”

“You sound like a native!” The King said, also in Sadalan. “All your lessons with the Prince here have paid off.”

“Indeed,” Vegeta said in Sadalan, and Goku couldn’t look away when Vegeta turned to him and smiled—that same, mysterious look. “A diligent student.”

He fought to speak for a moment, his voice caught in his throat. Goku found it after coughing a little, then turned his attention away to the large tray of food a servant laid before him. “D’in m’yo, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

From the corner of his vision, he caught Vegeta’s wide-eyed stare. He even heard his very faint, very soft gasp. The sight eased the nerves in Goku, and he focused his attention on the meal, pushing his own worrying thoughts to the side, for now.

The King excused himself first from the room, followed by Chikora. The twins lingered behind, eager eyes zeroed in on Goku. Before he could formulate an excuse, Vegeta rose from the table, heading for the door. As he passed Goku by, he leant in and murmured, “Find my ki later.” And Goku nodded, a cold chill running down his spine.

Sparring with the twins proved useful. He focused all his attention and energy in them as they fought in the ambuwa gumisou, a gathering of soldiers watching them as time passed. Baternat and Courget had improved drastically since their first spar. More than once, they caught Goku off guard, sometimes even overpowering him and pushing him to the ground. Goku easily was able to match their levels and their intensity, and he treasured those moments, embedding them deep into his memory. If they ever got the opportunity to come back, he was sure the twins would be Super Saiyan by then.

When the two hours were over, both twins hugged him tight, latching onto either side of him. They babbled on in Sadalan with big grins on their faces and dirt on their cheeks how much they’d miss him. “Thank you, Master Goku!” “You were great!” “You ARE great!” “Come back and teach us fusion!” “Yes, teach us!” “We’ll keep training!” “Yeah, we will!”

Goku hugged them back with both of his arms, squeezing them tight. “M’eh ke’kratshi ye’tau bi,” he said. _I’m so proud of you two._

As one, the twins squeezed him back, stronger than before. They buried their faces into the sides of his body, digging their small fingers into his orange gi. He felt them shake, just a little, heard their breathing turn a little wet, and he released his hold on each of them to pet their hair, gentle strokes going up and down.

“M’ehuah’ni, Goku,” Baternet said, his voice muffled, face stuffed against his side. _We’re sorry, Goku._

Courget nodded a few times.

“M’ehuwa’th binto embi mal’au.” _We said so many bad things about you._ Baternat lifted his head, teary eyes locked onto Goku. “Au’ni et Saiyan.” _You are a Saiyan._

Courget lifted his head next, smiling big. “E’sha’u Saiyan!” _A mated Saiyan!_ “Ui’e ve’ho’ti!” _To the prince!_

Goku’s mouth fell open. He tried forming a word, any word—but, we, how, no, what—and nothing came out.

Baternat continued, not in Sadalan this time. He spoke to Goku in his language, for the first time since Goku met them. “We thought you were lying when you said you weren’t Prince Vegeta’s mate. Fusion couldn’t have made your umoya’ir look this way.”

“Yeah! No way at all!” Courget said, also in his own language. He pointed to some place on Goku, somewhere above his left shoulder. “We can see it even now. Your umoya twines perfectly with Prince Vegeta’s like mah’kha’or would.”

“We’re learning from Lady Kohltavi all about Saiyan magic and we could see how Prince Vegeta’s umoya looked healthy and bright, while yours didn’t.” Baternat frowned. “So we thought you were hurting your mah’kha and rejecting the r’bhon’or.”

“And we saw how Prince Vegeta’s umoya flickered when he told us you two weren’t mates! Remember Baternat?” Courget turned to his brother, pointing again over Goku’s shoulder. “Remember when that happened the day after they arrived, Prince Vegeta’s umoya flickered a bunch of times, and his didn’t? We were so mad!”

“Mmhmm. But it got better after Goku recovered from dra’zela,” Baternat said. He shuddered a little. “Thankfully.”

Courget shivered as well, but then shook his head, his happy demeanor returning. “Yep, and now they both have healthy umoya’ir, so they are definitely mah’kha’or, as they should be!” Both twins looked up at Goku again, and Courget said, “Uzko du Soli, Goku! You found your other half!”

“Your mah’kha,” Baternat said.

Goku crouched down. The twins released their hold on him as he met their eyelevel, his large hands cupping the backs of each of their heads. “So… it wasn’t the spar that made you two hate me?”

“Well…” Baternat lifted a hand up, two fingers pinching together, a mere inch between each finger. He winced, saying, “A little.”

Courget puffed out his chest. “Princes don’t like to lose.”

Goku chuckled. “That they don’t.” He ruffled their hair as he stood up. “You two should get going. I see your tutors are waiting.” He nodded ahead.

As one, the twins looked behind them to find their tutors at the opposite end of the training grounds. They groaned, their shoulders slumping, but then they stood up tall, poised, like little versions of Vegeta, and bowed to Goku in unison.

“D’in m’yo, Master Goku,” they said.

“D’in m’yo, ve’ho’ti Courget et ve’ho’ti Baternat.”

Goku waved as they waved goodbye in return, rushing over to their tutors on the other end. He smiled as he watched them act with respect, before they all disappeared out of the training grounds, rounding a corner. Only then did Goku release his smile with a big sigh, rubbing his cold face.

A few soldiers vied for his attention, asking for a spar of their own. The urge to give in was strong. There was nothing more Goku wanted to do than to postpone the inevitable and spar some more Saiyan fighters. But he resisted the urge and told them no, not today, thank you, in perfect Sadalan, and they didn’t pry or push him into anything. They let him leave, and part of Goku wished someone had coaxed him or poked him into a fight. The other part, the part that he knew he had to listen to—that part told him to go find Vegeta. It was time.

Once he was far enough away from the training grounds and from any Saiyan ki signature, Goku stood in the empty hallway, closed his eyes and focused. With ease, he found Vegeta’s ki, outside of the palace walls. Somewhere beyond the mountain ranges. Somewhere not too far. Somewhere familiar.

He placed two fingers to his forehead, locking onto Vegeta’s ki. In a moment, tall whisps of grass tickled the sides of his calves. Cool wind brushed his face. The rustling of trees and the cry of avians in the sky surrounded him.

Goku opened his eyes.

His hand fell to his side as he stared at Vegeta, standing cross-armed, right in front of him.

His red cape whipped around with the wind and the grass in the empty, open meadow. Large, moving trees and snow-capped mountains lined the horizon in the distance behind him. The purple stone around his neck glistened in the bright sunlight.

“Have you make your decision?” he said.

Goku swallowed, his throat dry.

He opened his mouth, paused, closed it again.

Vegeta stood perfectly still, like a statue. As expressionless as one.

Slowly, Goku shook his head no.

“Yes you have,” Vegeta said. “You know what it is, and while I’m not going to push you into anything, I’m not going to wait around for you either. I know where I stand. I know that you are my mah’kha, that we are destined for each other, and that I love you.” Goku heard himself gasp, watching Vegeta unfurl his arms. “Yes, Kakarot, you heard right. I love you. I’m secure in myself to admit that aloud, to you and to myself. I love _you_.” The corners of Goku’s vision blurred. Through the tall grass, Vegeta walked over to him, closing the gap between them, each crunching step sending shockwaves throughout Goku’s body. “Whether or not you feel the same about me doesn’t matter, because I know how I feel, and I know you do too.” He stopped a few inches away from Goku, the volume and tone of his voice lowering. “So say it already. Say it and get this over with.”

Everything around Goku turned cold. He couldn’t feel the grass around him or the dirt beneath him. Couldn’t hear the birds or the wind.

All he saw was Vegeta. All he could hear and smell was Vegeta. All he could feel was the heat coming from Vegeta’s body, and his mind raced with all of his thoughts.

Chikora’s words. _Your umoya flickers every time he leaves._ The King’s words. _What a beautiful mah’kha he has._ The children’s words. _Your umoya twines perfectly with Prince Vegeta’s like mah’kha’or would. You found your other half!_

Kohltavi’s words. Her warning. _I wish I could say you will win it all._

The dream Vegeta, from that dark world he was in. _M’yo mah’kha._

His parents. Their love for each other and for him.

And Vegeta said—Vegeta said he—

Goku’s eyes burned. He croaked out, “I can’t.”

“Kakarot—”

“ _You_ can’t. You shouldn’t. I know I’ve hurt Chichi and even though you tell me Bulma will be okay with this, I know I’m going to hurt her too. I can’t avoid that. I hate that I’m going to do that to them, but after what we did yesterday, it’s too late to go back. It happened and…” He sighed, wiping at his eyes, finding no tears there, but he knew they would be. The burn still lingered, waiting. “I know I’m out of time, and I know I’ve already hurt people, but I can’t decide. I can’t do it.”

He could feel Vegeta’s anger against his skin. “Why the _fuck_ not?”

The words came out before he could stop himself. “Because I’m scared, okay?!”

Goku jerked away, tried to turn around, but Vegeta’s hand grabbed his arm and squeezed hard, forcing him to stay in place. He tried yanking it away again, but Vegeta held firm, doubling his strength, and Goku gave up his fight, staying in place.

That hand didn’t let go. It remained, still holding on, still tight and strong. The heat felt nice against his skin, the gloved leather too. Almost calming, in a way. Like Vegeta knew he was going to do this, that he was going to run away, and wasn’t going to let him—and Goku didn’t fight the part of him that was thankful for it.

He didn’t lift his head though, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t dare look at Vegeta as all of his feelings and his thoughts spilled out as he spoke. “I’m not scared of what Chichi will do,” he said, “or Bulma, or our friends, or what our kids will think. I’m scared of hurting _you_.” He felt his teeth chatter, his stomach twist up. “You said you love me, and I know you meant it. You know how to love. Well, I don’t. Kohltavi said so and she was right. I don’t know the difference between loving food and loving someone, and she was right. I saw the love between my mom and dad in that dark place and it was beautiful. They really loved each other, as much as they loved me.” His next shaky exhale matched the visible tremor that ran throughout his whole body. “But I don’t think I’m capable of loving _anyone_ like that, like the way I know you love Bulma, and that scares me, because I can’t hurt you, Vegeta. I can’t go forward with this only for me to hurt you like I’ve hurt Chichi.”

“You won’t,” Vegeta said.

“You don’t know that. You don’t—” Goku sighed, shaking his head.

His face heated up as the images of the last two weeks flooded through his mind: Vegeta dancing the echu batwa, Vegeta teaching him things, Vegeta hugging him as he cried, Vegeta watching over him, Vegeta stroking his forehead, Vegeta practicing Sadalan with him, Vegeta sparring him, Vegeta kissing him, Vegeta licking his neck, Vegeta’s moans, Vegeta’s smile—and every image, every memory, fought the cold around Goku. A blistering, all-encompassing heat rose up from inside the middle of his belly, his lungs tightening up, his heart beating hard enough to burst out of his chest. All things he never felt before. All things he didn’t understand. All because of Vegeta.

The hand on his arm released, only to touch his shoulder. It lightly pressed down, fingers curling around, attempting to turn him. Goku followed the motion, moving his body in Vegeta’s direction. The gloved hand stayed there, a warm palm resting on top of his gi, cupping the curve of his shoulder.

Gloved fingertips touched under his chin, tilting it up. Goku let it, but his eyes stayed downturned. He focused on the grass below and around them, Vegeta’s blue-covered knees, the bottom half of his armor and red, flowing cape.

That heat, all coming from Vegeta. The warmth of his hand on his shoulder. The gentle touch on his chin. His smell. A warmth surrounded his cold body, like a good soft blanket, hugging him all over, and he shut his eyes at the out-of-nowhere sensation.

“Do you feel that, Kakarot?” Vegeta’s voice sounded so soft, barely above a whisper. “Do you feel this?”

The warmth intensified. It filled up Goku’s insides, like he sunk into a warm bath after a hard workout, or into warm sheets after a cold day in the snow. It welcomed him, hold him close, offered peace, security, comfort—

Vegeta’s hand moved from his chin to his cheek.

Goku gasped.

Images, not his own, flooded his mind. Images of himself. Him lying in bed, gloved fingertips running over his sweaty forehead. Him in Vegeta’s arms, passed out under moonlight. Him in Vegeta’s arms, crying into his neck. Him in front of Vegeta, blushing bright red under sunlight. Him beneath Vegeta, lost in the throws of passion. Him laughing at Vegeta. Him smirking at Vegeta mid-spar. Him smiling at Vegeta.

Every image added to the warmth inside him. Every image came attached with emotions that Goku knew weren’t his own. Amusement. Annoyance. Concern. Sadness. Anxiety. Lust. Frustration. Anger. Peace. Absolute peace with this situation, with their relationship, with himself. Absolute peace achieved and attained, because of not just acceptance, but because of relief. Relief of finding his other half. Relief and gratitude for finding his mah’kha.

But one emotion stood out amongst it all. One emotion Goku couldn’t name or label or understand. But his heart _screamed_ at him, as it had in the past. It screamed out of relief too, out of joy. His heart, his mind, his whole self—they screamed in unison, as one, and Goku felt his tears finally release, hot streaks down his cold face, as it hit him. What this was. What this actually was.

Love.

Vegeta’s love.

Over the torrent of emotions and images, Vegeta said, “I didn’t get the opportunity to tell you about the umoya’ir, r’bhon’or and everything with mah’kha’or. All because I was afraid to say the truth aloud, and of how you would react. I won’t repeat that mistake again.” The images came to a sudden halt when Vegeta pulled his hand away from his cheek, but the warmth stayed. “That was vakalelo. It comes with the r’bhon’or we have. I can sense your emotions, as well as send you mine. I’ve been practicing though and can now send you some of my thoughts too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I didn’t know how else to bring it up.”

He struggled for words. For control of his voice and his body. There was none he could find. He stood before Vegeta, surrounded by that warmth, the lingering images, the emotions that weren’t his, and zeroed in on one. That one. The unknown one. The foreign one. The intense, beautiful, addicting one, full of passion and adoration and need.

This man. The alien that came to destroy, from another world, falling out of the sky. The Saiyan of a history and a past he never knew and never cared to know. The friend he accepted and trusted, even when he betrayed him. The prince amongst his people on this planet. The prince of all Saiyans.

His prince. His best friend.

His Vegeta.

The gloved hand returned to his cheek, rubbing a thumb over the tear stain there.

Goku barely recognized his own voice. “You…” It sounded throaty. Raw. “You actually love me.”

Vegeta smiled, and that look came back on his face. The look Goku had no name for, no idea what it was, until now. “As do you.”

“No, not like this. This is…” His vision blurred. “This is so different. Like my parents. Like…” His voice cracked. “Is this it? Is this…”

Vegeta leaned in, filling up Goku’s whole vision. “I love you, Kakarot.”

“I’m scared, Vegeta.”

That warm chuckle soothed Goku’s heart. “You can hurt me. I can take it.”

The tears released when Vegeta’s lips touched his. Goku found his control again at that moment and flung his arms around Vegeta’s body, lifting him clear off the ground as he pushed back hard into the kiss. Warmth engulfed him whole. Vegeta’s emotions ran through him, pouring out, and he sobbed into the kiss, pulling back and coming in again to kiss his closed lips again, and again, and again, hugging the man tighter, stronger, shaking everywhere from the emotions coming out, usurping his senses.

Gloved hands made their way to his hair, sinking in. Vegeta’s tongue slipped past his parted lips on the next kiss, and Goku growled, his fingers digging into Vegeta’s cape, into the back of his armor. He brought his own tongue into play, running it against Vegeta’s. Saliva mixed. Goku shivered, feeling his tongue sucked in by Vegeta’s, curling it, bobbing on it, and he returned the favor on the next kiss, mimicking Vegeta’s actions, and the response he got—Vegeta’s groan, Vegeta’s thrust of his whole body arching up into him, Vegeta’s visible shiver—made him want more. Want him. This. All of this. Everything.

He easily hiked up Vegeta’s leg over his hip, guiding them down to the ground. The grass swallowed them up, the tops almost covering them from the immediate surroundings. Goku thrust his crotch against Vegeta’s, hardness meeting hardness, just like before and just as good, but better, because he felt Vegeta’s moans, felt Vegeta’s _emotions_. The spike of lust. The need. His desire, for him. His love. His _love_ , for _him_ , and Goku couldn’t stop himself from humping against Vegeta again, and again, and again, his hips moving in a slow rhythm, his hands roaming over Vegeta’s torso, his arms, his sides, not knowing where to put them, not caring where he could, because this was enough for him. This was perfect.

Then Vegeta’s hands yanked his lips away, breaking the kiss. He moaned loud—a long, drawn out moan, throwing his neck back, and Goku’s breath hitched at the sight. Vegeta, lost in want. Moving his hips in time with his own. The noises he made. How _gone_ he looked. All because of Goku. Because of him.

_So beautiful…_

Goku leaned back in, itching to taste that neck, like Vegeta had done to him, but the hands in his hair kept him in place. He watched Vegeta tilt his head back, opening his eyes, and Goku shuddered at the dilated pupils, deep in want, looking right at him, like an animal on the prowl, ready to pounce and attack its prey, and Goku wanted it all, wanted Vegeta to do just that, right now.

Then Vegeta smirked, and Goku bucked faster against Vegeta, pleasure shooting all over, his dick growing harder in his gi, the heat rising from his belly.

He hissed when Vegeta yanked on his hair hard, enough to stop him from thrusting completely, his eyes fluttering shut. Felt him move their bodies into a sitting position. Lips kissed his cheekbone. Hot breath over his jawline. Tongue ran over the skin, wet and warm and so good, right up to his earlobe.

“Vu’le m’eh niso au, Kakarot.” _Let me show you, Kakarot._

One hand left his hair to trail down the side of his neck, down his sternum, skipping over his gi belt, right to his crotch.

Goku gasped, his hips snapping up in response.

Vegeta’s hot breath tickled his ear as he cupped his cock, over his gi. “Vu’le m’eh n’diyau, m’yo mah’kha.” _Let me love you, my mate._

He squeezed, hard.

Goku moaned loud, shivering all over, his wayward hands latching onto Vegeta’s shoulders for balance and support. 

That hand palmed his cock. Squeezed him. Held him. Never hurting. The emotions he felt mimicked his own and threatened to overwhelm him. The passion and need and lust. The desire and adoration and comfort. The safety. Love.

Vegeta loved him.

He _loved_ him, wanted him, needed him…

Goku moved his hips to Vegeta’s hand. The world spun out of control. The heat rose. Hurt to breathe. To think. But he was safe. He was safe with Vegeta. Vegeta wouldn’t hurt him. Vegeta wouldn’t, even though Goku could, and probably would—

Emotion flooded his senses, cutting off all thought.

Adoration. Need. Want. Desperation.

Love.

Love for him. Only for him.

“Bhu’tir, Kakarot.” _Please, Kakarot._ The hand in his hair slid to his cheek. Lips brushed his. Nose against his. Forehead touched forehead. “Ta’hi m’eh.” _Trust me._

Goku succumbed to the emotions, to Vegeta’s moving hand, to the warmth, whispering back, “M’eh t’ahi au.” _I trust you._

The fingers on his cheeks disappeared for a moment. A few seconds later, he felt the world change around him. No more cool air. No more grass around them, or dirt beneath him. Soft sheets. Warm, enclosed room.

He felt Vegeta push him backwards onto pillows and he opened his eyes to find Vegeta between his open legs, a stone ceiling above him, framed by two large wooden bed posts. He removed his gloves one by one, throwing them over his shoulder, followed by the red cape. The necklace laid somewhere off to the side, on the bed. He could see the color of the sheets—dark blue, not burgundy or black— some of the items in the room—more bookcases, less space—and he knew then it wasn’t his own chambers, but Vegeta’s.

Bare fingertips on his cheek caught his attention again. He focused on Vegeta, how nice it was to feel his soft fingers, how good it felt when they brushed away. He watched Vegeta kneel between his legs, warm palms resting on either side of his waist, and a blush formed as they slid to the middle of his belt, right to the knot there.

He didn’t dare look away as Vegeta took his time untying the blue belt. Even though his body shook. Even though his breath quickened and his heart beat faster than ever before. He wasn’t going to look away at how Vegeta expertly unraveled the belt, throwing it to the side. How he hooked his thumbs and index fingers into the top of his gi pants and briefs and easily pulled them down, all the way to the top of his thighs.

His face heated up as he watched his own hard cock stand to attention, slapping against his belly and the very edges of his gi top, the precum there dripping from the red, bulbous head, and without thought, his legs started to bend at the knee, feet slowly sliding back, his hands drifting down to his crotch. But Vegeta saw it and he pinned Goku’s hands down to his bare hips, leaning a bit further in, as if daring him to go any further.

The smoldering, predatory look on his face stopped Goku from moving more. He straightened out his legs again, swallowing the saliva that gathered in his mouth. Even though the room was warm, it still didn’t feel enough. His body shook everywhere. His head felt dizzy. The urge to run, to hide, was strong, but Vegeta wasn’t going to let him go. Wasn’t going to let him—

Warmth, all over. Vegeta’s warmth.

Goku groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The emotions flooding his senses kill away the shame and doubt and fear inside. Comfort won out. Safety. Need for him. For this.

Vegeta’s love won out, and he latched onto it hard, curling his psyche up in it.

The clicks of armor unbuckling caught his attention and he opened his eyes to find Vegeta throwing the top of his armor off the bed to the floor. He felt and saw his dick twitch as he reached for the bottom of his blue spandex top and peeled it off his body, revealing tanned skin, sculpted muscles and delicious scars. A torso he knew well. A torso he had seen many times. But not like this. Not with Vegeta looking at him like this, between his legs like this, staring at him like he was about to eat him alive, but his emotions said differently. The passion was there, the lust was there, but there was a need to comfort, a need to protect, a need to show and to give and to cherish.

Bare fingertips brushed up and down the inside of his spread, naked thighs and hips. Goku shivered all over, but didn’t look away. Didn’t close his eyes.

“Tell me when to stop,” Vegeta said, “and I will.” He crouched down, right to his crotch, his bare, soft hands coming closer to it, closer to his hard cock, and Goku trembled at the sight, at the sensations, the emotions, _this_. “This is all for you, m’yo mah’kha.”

Vegeta’s eyes never left his as he darted his pink tongue out to touch the tip of his cock. Never looked away as he curled his tongue over the head, then down the ridged side and back up. He kept his attention right on him, only on him, as he wrapped both hands around the base of Goku’s cock, parted his soft lips and took him into his warm, wet mouth.

A gasp ripped out of him as Vegeta took him in, inch by inch. He tried keeping his eyes open, tried to look at Vegeta, but the emotions, the feelings, the sensations, Vegeta’s mouth, Vegeta’s tongue, Vegeta’s soft hands—Goku _moaned_ , throwing his head back into the pillows and shutting his eyes, his hands digging into the sheets.

He moved to the rhythm of Vegeta’s mouth and hands, playing his body like an instrument, coaxing sounds out of him he never made before. Sharp sighs. Little, desperate whimpers. Long, loud moans. Fast and harsh panting as he picked up the pace. A set of fingers drifted away from his dick for his balls, and he _squealed_ when they brushed over each one, slowly. Palming them. Squeezing them, very light, very gentle. Pulling them a tiny bit, the pleasure of it nearly making him come right there and then.

Vegeta never stopped moving his hands there. Never stopped sucking his cock. He’d lift his mouth to tease the underside of the head with the tip of his tongue, or to lap at the sides of his dick, or to suckle at the whole head before swallowing it back down again. But his mouth stayed there, and it felt so good, amazing, new, wonderful—and it paired so well with the emotions he felt. The emotions from Vegeta. Every stroke, every lick, every kiss, accented by feelings of safety, of lust and of love.

Then the fingers touched a place, right below his balls. Vegeta’s thumb pressed at a place, right there, at his taint, and Goku _squealed_ on top of his lungs, his lower back bowing off the bed like a livewire ran through him. His fingers tore at the sheets, his head thrashing from one side of the pillow to the other, sweat sticking to his face, his own hot breath blowing back onto him. Vegeta’s hand grabbed one of his, twining their fingers together, and Goku held on as the pleasure rocked him hard.

New. Brand new. So much pleasure. Too much pleasure, and his teeth chattered as the thumb there massaged whatever that was, rubbing in very small, tender circles, in time with Vegeta’s head and tongue. His balls tightened, his breath picked up. Sweat stung, gathered in the corner of his tear ducts. The pleasure built up higher, the wave of emotions never let up, Vegeta never let up, and he felt his throat turn raw, his moans getting longer, and louder, and desperate, needy, needing Vegeta, needing more, needing to—

Vegeta’s thumb pressed a little further.

Goku shouted hard, coming into Vegeta’s mouth.

Everything spun. Vegeta’s warm mouth. Vegeta’s hands. Sweat everywhere. The sheets stuck to him. His heartbeat echoed loud like drums in his head.

Vegeta was still there. Vegeta wasn’t letting go.

_Vegeta…_

He drifted off, still holding onto Vegeta’s free hand.

When he came to, he found Vegeta there, by his side, propping up his head with one hand, elbow digging into the sheets. He smiled a very small smile while his other hand traced mindless patterns on Goku’s cheek.

His face took up Goku’s whole vision. He had that look again. That look of love—that was it. The look he didn’t know and had no name for until now. Love, for him, from Vegeta.

Goku glanced down at himself and found he was now naked from the waist down, and he wasn’t covered in cum or anything. His skin felt a little cool, a residue of water left behind here and there. Vegeta cleaned him up then.

He smiled a little, and then turned his attention to Vegeta’s bare chest. His bare chest and—he froze, his cheeks burning bright red.

Vegeta wasn’t clothed down there anymore. Not even his boots were on. He was naked from head to toe, and very, very hard.

Very hard, and very big, too.

The fingertips on his cheek stopped. “Hey.”

Goku glanced up.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Vegeta said.

He frowned. “I… don’t?”

“I told you. This is all for you.”

“But—” Goku nudged his head down, without actually _looking_ down, and rose his eyebrows. “You’re naked?”

“Because I wanted to be.” Vegeta’s hand cupped his cheek. “And I wanted you to see what belonged to you now.”

“… Oh.” Goku trailed his eyes down Vegeta’s chest, taking in every scar, every muscle, every expanse of skin. His hard nipples. His rock solid abs. The treasure trail going down to his crotch. The curve of his hip. The deep V of his hips. His hard cock and its girth and length, how it looked… surprisingly nice and familiar since it was like his, but different enough. His strong, sculpted quads. His lean legs.

The way he looked, propped up on his elbow. The way Vegeta looked at him, like that, like this. The look of love and adoration there, for him. The fact that he was hard and clearly very, very turned on, for him, because of him.

Goku gulped, drifting his attention back up to Vegeta, but to somewhere at his chin, unable to look him in the eye. His face burned and the room spun, but at least he was on the bed, and he knew Vegeta would like to hear this, since Vegeta loved him, and it felt right saying it aloud. It felt okay.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Vegeta’s chuckle was not derisive at all, or annoyed. It sounded sweet, light. Very loving.

Lips pressed to his forehead. Against the skin, Vegeta whispered, “D’in m’yo, r’sha.” _Thank you, beloved._ Vegeta tilted his head down and nudged the tip of his nose with his own. “Au’ni nee’jen.” _You are as well._

“Jeez, Vegeta.” Goku pushed his face against Vegeta’s chest, under his chin. Even though he was bigger and taller than Vegeta, he felt a need to hide himself away and curl himself up against the man. “You’re being really nice.”

“Of course I am.” Vegeta’s hand landed on his back, pulling him closer. “I’m your mah’kha.”

Adoration. Passion. Love. Goku felt it all from Vegeta—the r’bhon’or—and he wrapped an arm around the man, hugging him closer, feeling okay and a little bit turned on when Vegeta’s hard cock pressed against his clothed belly. “You sure this r’bhon’or thing didn’t change you?”

Vegeta’s chuckle felt nice against his ear and his body. “I would still kill an enemy before giving them a sensu bean. So, no, I haven’t changed.”

Goku huffed, hugging Vegeta tighter. “You don’t have to rub it in, y’know.”

“Dumbass.” A kiss to the top of his head. “My dumbass though.”

“Hmph.” Goku yawned against Vegeta’s chest, his eyes becoming heavy again. “Still not nice.”

Another chuckle. Warm. Loving. All this love around him, like a warm, heavy blanket. Vegeta was warm. Vegeta was perfect.

“Rest, m’yo mah’kha.” The rumble of his husky voice. “You deserve it.”

He didn’t bother fighting the sleep that gathered around the edges of his consciousness. Wrapped up in all the emotions from Vegeta, curled up to Vegeta’s warm chest, with Vegeta’s strong, warm arm around his body, Vegeta’s warm breath against his scalp, Vegeta’s heartbeat in his ear—he closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep easily, knowing Vegeta was there and that this was going to be okay. They would be okay. 

***

When Goku woke up later, the sun just finished setting, the night sky overtaking the colors of sunset outside the window. He found himself still cuddled up to Vegeta, still naked down below, and he didn’t mind oogling Vegeta’s body as he slept on beside him. It was a little less scary, now that Vegeta wasn’t hard. He still looked beautiful and attractive. He even looked a little cute as he slept with his lips slightly parted open, his nose making a little whistling sound every time he exhaled. Goku took his time unwrapping himself from Vegeta’s arms, careful not to disturb him. He gathered up his gi pants and briefs on the floor and eyed the door for a moment, before shaking his head and walking in the direction of the bathroom instead.

The hot water felt good on his skin. He lathered up soap and ran the washcloth over his body, taking time to scrub under his armpits. His mind wandered a little as he bathed, his lips curling into a little smile. Two weeks ago, he never knew anything about his parents, and he never cared to know about them. Now he wanted to honor them in some way permanently. Maybe build them a grave somewhere on Earth, or create something in their memory. Two weeks ago, he didn’t care about being a Saiyan or being Saiyan enough or fitting in or anything like that. Now he not only knew his past prejudices were unfounded, but that he was a Saiyan and that he could be proud of that.

Two weeks ago, the whole kingdom thought Vegeta and he were mates, much to their horror. Now, they not only confirmed their initial thoughts, but they were going forward with being mates. They kissed and… did things together. Vegeta even said he _loved_ him, and Goku knew he meant it. He even felt it. The idea of learning something new thrilled him. What else the r’bhon’or could provide, he didn’t know. Vegeta clearly did, and he couldn’t wait to learn more from him. For them to explore this together.

“Kakarot?”

Goku startled a little. He turned to the shower door, where the silhouette of Vegeta’s body stood. “Oh jeez, did I wake you?”

“You didn’t. The servant came by saying dinner was ready.”

“Oh, okay! Great! I’m almost done.”

“May I come in?”

His face heated up, yet again. Goku stuttered, “Uh, s-sure!”

“You can say no, Kakarot. I won’t be mad.”

Feelings of reassurance and comfort. All from Vegeta, to him. Goku smiled. “I know you won’t. Please come in, Vegeta.”

The door slid open. Vegeta stepped in, naked, sliding the door behind him. And it hit Goku how good Vegeta looked. A cramp gathered in his stomach. His cock twitched to life. He stared at Vegeta’s pecs, his strong thighs, his abs, his sculpted shoulders and arms, and he realized with a start he not only wanted to touch him, he _needed_ to touch him, badly. He needed this man, needed him now, needed to kiss him, to touch him, to make him feel good, to make him moan like Vegeta made him moan—

Vegeta closed the gap between them, kissing Goku hard. Goku returned the kiss just as hard, just as intense, rubbing their slick, wet cocks together. He ran his wet hands down Vegeta’s dry back, pulling them both under the warm spray. Vegeta moaned into his mouth, sunk his fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, and Goku moaned in return, clutching Vegeta’s plump ass into his palms and squeezing hard, not holding back his strength.

He easily picked Vegeta up, slamming his back against the shower wall. A few tiles cracked, but Vegeta didn’t hiss or cry in pain. He moaned even louder, into Goku’s mouth, his fingers scraping down his scalp, down to his neck, and the sensation made Goku hiss and growl, fire spiraling down right to his hard dick. He ignored it though, resisted the urge to touch himself. It was Vegeta’s turn now. Vegeta deserved to feel good too.

Holding up Vegeta’s legs, Goku sunk down to his knees and shut his brain down, coming face to face with Vegeta’s now hard cock. He thought of Vegeta’s mouth and what he did before, and he mimicked him with his first steps: licking the head, tasting it, playing with it, how it felt against his tongue, and Vegeta’s sharp gasp and hard thrust up was all Goku needed to keep going.

The more he tasted, the more okay it felt to do this. Vegeta’s dick felt like warm salty skin. Tasted salty. He licked the sides, like Vegeta did, licked up and down, and he groaned at how Vegeta reacted to every single lick, every single kiss to his cock. How Vegeta writhed above him. How he wrapped his legs over his shoulders, hooking his ankles together. How Vegeta dug his fingers into his scalp and held on for dear life. Giving in to him. Trusting him.

Goku felt the desire, the need, and that love, and he swallowed Vegeta whole, taking him all the way in. He sucked up and down, trying to figure this out, to see if this was right, if Vegeta was enjoying it. By the way Vegeta’s thighs shivered around his bobbing head, and how Vegeta was moaning, it seemed like he was, a lot.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to make Vegeta feel good. He wanted to thank him. Wanted him to know that Goku liked doing this, liked everything about this. How he was excited for their future, how this was right, how Vegeta was beautiful and sweet and—

He nearly came when Vegeta moaned on top of his lungs, “Kakarooott…”

Hot salt spilled into his mouth. Out of instinct, Goku swallowed it. He nearly gagged as more came out from Vegeta, so he swallowed the rest, the hot gooey liquid going down. When no more seem to come out, Goku finally pulled away, but he stayed close to Vegeta’s cock, like Vegeta had done earlier.

Goku nuzzled it with his nose, helped Vegeta come back to standing by releasing his grip on his thighs, putting Vegeta’s feet down one by one. He didn’t miss the way Vegeta’s legs trembled and he steadied Vegeta against the wall, kissing the inside of Vegeta’s thighs, one by one. He leaned up to nuzzle the treasure trail right at his pubic bone, under his belly, and he sighed when Vegeta’s hands no longer clutched his hair but began to pet it in small gentle strokes.

He hoped Vegeta felt what he was feeling. Hope he could feel how thankful he was, how happy and sated. How he enjoyed doing that to Vegeta. How he wanted to do that again, and again. How making Vegeta feel good made him feel good. How different and new this all was and how much he really, really liked it.

The hands on his head stopped moving, only to tug upwards. “C’mere.”

Goku followed, climbing back to his feet. Vegeta slid his hands down as he stood, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other wrapping an arm around his back. He closed his eyes as they kissed, the smacking of their lips echoing in the bathroom. Goku wrapped his arms around Vegeta, responding to the kiss with the same intensity and passion that Vegeta gave him.

Slowly, the kiss petered off. With a final smack of lips, Vegeta pressed their foreheads together, rubbing the back of Goku’s wet neck with his thumb. “M’eh t’sha au.”

That husky whisper. The sincerity and love. Goku felt it from him. Heard it in those words.

I love you. In Sadalan.

He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure in his capabilities, and there was still the nagging fear that in the end, he would hurt Vegeta. But right now, in this moment, after everything—the years between them, the fights they battled and won, the impossible things they overcame, the changes and challenges over last two weeks—the doubt wouldn’t win. Not this time.

Goku took a deep breath and thought over the syntax and enunciation of each word. He formed the sentence in his mind, double checked that it was right, and then gave it a voice, saying it aloud with the same sincerity and, hopefully, love that Vegeta delivered to him.

“M’eh’ga m’eh t’sha au’naye,” he said. _I think I love you too._

A rush of emotion hit Goku the same time Vegeta’s lips pressed to his. He sunk into the kiss, into Vegeta’s arms, his gentle hands running over his body, as he felt every emotion—the need, the passion, the joy, and the love. Especially the love.

He felt a wayward hand slip between his legs, and Goku stopped the kiss, pulling Vegeta’s hand back to his side. He looked at Vegeta’s confused stare and shook his head no. “All for you,” he said, and he grinned when Vegeta’s eyes shined, felt a rush of awe run through his body, and flat out laughed when Vegeta kissed him hard, his hands running all over his naked, wet body yet again.

Goku pulled away from the kiss, still chuckling. “C’mon, Vegeta, we have to get to dinner.”

“Ugh.” Vegeta pulled Goku close, pushing their foreheads together. “Fine.” He kissed Goku one last time before pulling away. “Let us go.”

It was nice, getting ready together. Strangely intimate and comforting. Goku liked it when Vegeta ran a towel over his back, and he liked doing the same for him. He liked watching Vegeta put on his armor, and he liked that Vegeta looked at him when he put on his gi. He even liked walking alongside Vegeta down the hallways to the royal chambers, and he didn’t mind when people were looking at them, because at least people were smiling. Maybe they had been smiling this whole time when they were together and Goku just hadn’t noticed.

Dinner was a joyful and slightly somber event. It was like any other evening since the beginning of the second week. The King discussed the latest politics and diplomatic conversations. Chikora discussed her latest in Saiyan magic studies. The twins talked about what they learned today with their tutors and how fun it was sparring with Master Goku. But when the twins finished, Goku noticed their downtrodden frowns, and he spoke up then to say, “We’ll definitely be coming back, y’know! I expect you two to keep practicing while I’m gone.”

The twins grinned and shouted in unison, “Aiii, Master Goku!”

The King chuckled. “That would be wonderful. We’ve enjoyed your time here on Planet Sadala and I for one will miss you both.”

Chikora nodded. “Agreed. It’s been a pleasure, Goku.” Then nodded to Vegeta. “And you too as well, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

Baternat rose his cup into the air. “To Goku!”

Courget rose his too. “And his mah’kha, Prince Vegeta!”

Goku felt his face burn from ear to ear. Chikora and the King looked at the twins, then back to Goku and Vegeta. Waiting.

Beside him, Vegeta rose his own glass high. “To us.”

Goku hesitated before raising his own glass too. He glanced at Vegeta—his proud smirk, the glimmer in his eyes, that loving look—and he held back his giggle when he felt Vegeta’s emotions come through the r’bhon’or. The love and the comfort.

Chikora and the King grinned together, following with a raise of each of their respective glasses. In unison, they said, “To Goku and Prince Vegeta.”

“Uzko du Soli!” the twins shouted, downing their drinks.

“Uzko du Soli,” the King and crown princess Chikora echoed, tilting their drinks to their lips.

Goku said the same—“Uzko du Soli”—and sipped at his drink.

Vegeta nodded, and muttered, “Tor vuma uthi’ho.” Then downed his own drink.

The King chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You would, child of Tor.” He grinned at them both. “I’m thrilled you are mah’kha’or.”

“ _We_ knew from the beginning,” Baternat said.

“Yep! Fusion can’t make umoya’ir look like that, no way,” Courget said.

“Will you two be participating in the t’sha’to phe’hi?” Chikora asked.

Goku frowned a little, unable to translate what she said. Beside him, Vegeta replied, “Too early to say. We need to discuss that together at a later time.”

“Completely understood. Not every mah’kha’or has to have a t’sha’to phe’hi.” Chikora turned to Goku. “That roughly translates to ‘ritual of binding souls.’ It’s a ceremony for mah’kha’or to participate in so the goddesses may bless their union for decades to come. They exchange vows, perform a unity ritual—”

“Like a wedding?”

Chikora shrugged. “Perhaps?”

“It’s similar,” Vegeta said. “But like I said, that’s for a later time.” Under the table, he squeezed Goku’s thigh, and whispered under his breath, “And you can say no.”

Goku resisted the urge to lean over and kiss Vegeta’s cheek. He laid a hand over Vegeta’s on his thigh, squeezing it back. He conjured up feelings of affection and thanks, hoping Vegeta would feel it, and he smiled when he saw Vegeta’s eyes twinkle and his lips curl into a sweet smile that made his stomach flip in the way Goku knew and liked.

***

Dinner ended very, very late. Much later than any other time before. The royal family, Vegeta and himself spoke for hours on end, not wanting their last evening together to stop. But the night dragged on and eventually the twins fell asleep on them, passing out onto the table and snoring on top of their lungs. The King picked up Baternat, Chikora with Courget and carried them out, wishing Vegeta and Goku a pleasant evening and a good night’s sleep.

Goku waved them goodbye as they walked together down the hallway. He startled a little when Vegeta rested a hand against his lower back, then smiled at him, enjoying the feelings of warmth around him, and the feeling of love too.

They returned back to Vegeta’s room, where they stripped of their clothes and curled into bed together naked. Goku hugged Vegeta to him, pushing his cheek to his large chest, tucking him under his chin, and he sighed when Vegeta hugged an arm around his waist and snuck a leg between his own.

Everything felt good. This felt good, and right, and needed. Just like Kohltavi said. This was what he needed. It was still new, and a little weird, and there was still the chance that he could screw this all up and hurt Vegeta. But having Vegeta like this, feeling Vegeta against him, knowing he could possibly do this—that Goku could actually, truly love someone, that he actually possessed the capability for it—this was worth it.

He closed his eyes, breathing in Vegeta’s scent, his nose buried in Vegeta’s hair. He pushed back the doubt, the lingering feelings of guilt, the fear of what Chichi would say tomorrow when they came back home to Earth and Universe 6. Tonight, none of that mattered. None of that was worth his time and focus. This mattered more. Vegeta mattered more.

Goku hugged Vegeta tight, kissing the top of his head. Against his scalp, he whispered, “I choose this. I choose you.”

Vegeta responded with a kiss to the juncture of his neck, right over the bite. “As do I.” Nose to skin. Warmth between them, around Goku. Vegeta’s umoya. Vegeta’s love. “Sleep well, m’yo mah’kha.”

He closed his eyes, sinking into the sheets and the warmth, holding Vegeta close. He didn’t let go of him the entire night, nor did Vegeta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was giving me issues so I reeeeeeally hope this came out okay. Two more parts left!!


	11. Chapter 11

Vegeta woke to the sound of gentle breathing. Soft, pale skin filled his vision as he blinked his eyes open. Warm around him, from strong arms, holding him close. Steady heartbeat against his ear. He leaned back and found Goku there, lips parted in sleep. For the first time in a while, the man looked at ease. At peace.

He took in the sight—the long eyelashes, the chiseled jawline, strong cheekbones, his pink lips, the fading scar on the juncture between his shoulder and neck—and he smiled, lifting a hand up to brush his bare fingertips against Goku’s forehead. Soft locks of black hair tickled the tops of his knuckles as he ran it back and forth, feather light strokes that filled Vegeta’s chest and belly with warmth.

His fingertips traced down the side of his face to his cheek. Smooth skin. The light hairs there. The dots along the surface. The way the light played on Goku’s sleeping face, how it became part of him, just like his umoya. Ethereal. Beautiful.

All his.

 _Wake up, m’yo mah’kha._ He cupped Goku’s cheek, thumb resting on the cheekbone. _Let me see you._

Like a sunrise, Goku woke, bright eyes like stars focused solely on Vegeta. Blurry eyes, almost glazed over. He felt confusion over the r’bhon’or, then recognition, and finally—Vegeta chuckled—affection, mixed with shyness. He saw that shyness bloom into reality with the pink blush across Goku’s cheeks, along with his little smile, how his eyes drooped down, just a little, and Vegeta anticipated it by tilting Goku’s face up, maintaining eye contact as he leaned forward and ran the tip of his nose alongside Goku’s.

“M’holo, Kakarot,” he whispered. _Good morning, Kakarot._ Vegeta pressed a gentle kiss to Goku’s dry, parted lips, his eyes falling shut for a moment to enjoy the sensation, the feeling between them, from the r’bhon’or—the delight in Goku’s gasp and emotions. His spark of joy. His rising embarrassment. His blatant affection, all for him.

Vegeta pulled back, only to press their foreheads together. He rubbed Goku’s cheekbone as he fluttered his eyes open, meeting Goku’s shining own, and he sent over the r’bhon’or every piece of emotion he felt for the man before him in this moment. Awe and admiration over his beauty, who he was. Pride, for him, for what he had overcome, for not allowing his doubts to win. Affection, and love, because Goku needed to feel that most of all, and he knew it came across when Goku’s smile grew in size and turned a little watery at the same time.

He chuckled at the emotions pushed back to him, through the r’bhon’or. Affection as well—tainted with doubt, yes, and Vegeta hoped that would go away in time. Desire, for him, and Vegeta saw that well, with how Goku’s cock slowly stirred to life between them. Contentment, delight, some disbelief too, all in one, and Vegeta had a good idea why Goku felt that way. He sent over the r’bhon’or his own disbelief too—how this was real, how he got to have his mah’kha, that he even had a mah’kha to begin with—and he chuckled as Goku did, meeting his pursed lips with his own.

Their naked bodies pressed against each other as the kiss deepened. Goku slid one hand up his back to the base of his neck, fingers playing with the skin and hairline there—something he had done to Goku previous. Vegeta smirked into the next kiss, pushing Goku over to lay over his body, and Goku let him, not letting go of his grip on him, nor stopping the movement of his lips.

Tongues met, sliding against one another. Warm, wet heat. Hot breaths. Silk sheets. Goku’s large torso. Vegeta felt Goku’s cock rub against his own and he moaned as Goku did, sinking into the next kiss, into him. His hips moved first, thrusting up against Goku, the bed slightly squeaking with each roll of his hips, and he gasped when Goku returned the favor, hesitant at first, but gradually growing confident and strong. Easing into this. Relaxing more beneath him. Exploring.

Vegeta slid his hands down from Goku’s face, right to his chest. His palms laid over his chest and he sucked on Goku’s tongue at the same time he squeezed his large, muscular pecs. The reaction Goku made went right to his dick: his sharp groan, the snap of his hips, how his body _shook_ all over, all underneath him. He did it again, pressing the pecs together that time, shoving them together, pulling the skin taut, and again, Goku groaned, hissing into his mouth, his fingers digging into his back, bruising him good.

He yanked himself away from their kiss to give more attention to that chest, sliding one palm away to reveal a taut, pink nipple he drew into his mouth. His tongue circled the nub, once, twice, played with the tip as he would a cock, and the reaction he got was perfect: Goku shuddering, neck thrown back, legs splaying wider open, thrusting up hard into him—thrusting his chest more into his mouth. He heard teeth chattering as he ran his own canines over the tip, around it, blew on it, and he chuckled when Goku squeezed his large thighs _hard_ around his body, knees drawing back and up, feet planting onto the bed.

The r’bhon’or said everything Vegeta needed to hear from Goku without words passed. Lust. Need. Wondering, bewilderment, confusion, needing, needing more. Craving more. Desperation, for more, for him, for this. He listened well and moved away from that nipple to the next, repeatedly squeezing his pecs in time with his thrusts to Goku’s hard cock beneath him. He shared his own desire, his own lust and need over the r’bhon’or as he sucked in Goku’s other nipple, the tip of his tongue lapping and circling around, and around, and around, again and again, driving Goku crazy as well as himself. He shared his own desperation, his own want, and his love for this man under him, his mah’kha.

Goku moaned, his cheeks as pink as the sunrise outside. “V-Vegeta…”

Vegeta nipped at the flesh, once—Goku gasped—twice—Goku bucked up hard into him—and on the third time, he sucked the whole nipple back into his mouth, rubbing his pecs together, apart, then together again. And Goku’s fingers dug deeper than before, as if ready to tear his back to shreds, his shakes akin to a minor earthquake, his lower back bowed off the bed in a beautiful ‘c,’ his feet punching into the bed. The power there. The strength.

 _Mah’kha._ He licked a slow, languid trail up Goku’s sternum, fondling his nipples between his fingertips now. _M’yo mah’kha._

Each pinch led to another gasp. Each pull, another thrust. Plucking Goku’s strings. Playing with him. Simmering in each emotion Goku unconsciously sent the r’bhon’or. The surprise. The want. The desperation intensifying with each lick, each nip to his skin, each rub of his thumb or nail over his nipples, each roll of his palms on his pecs.

He glanced up and seared into his memory the sight of Goku’s pink cheeks, the sweat gathered on his brow and upper lip, his loud moans, his flexed biceps, his taut neck turned to the side. How he panted into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, lips twisted into a beautiful ache, a needy pain. His uncontrollable shaking. His legs squeezing. His moving hips, without rhythm. Lost in want. Abandoning all thought. Succumbing to everything Vegeta was doing to him, to the sensations he felt, and Vegeta could feel it all. He felt everything.

One long, slow lick, right to the corner of his jawline, tasting the sweat gathered there. Goku’s fast breathing, loud in his ear. His lips, brushing against Goku’s ear. How Goku shouted as if pained. Breathing faster. Bucking up mindless against him. He suckled on the earlobe as he did his nipples, and Goku cried out, his head pushing deeper into the pillows, his lips twisting, his back clearing off the bed, thighs rumbling, pulsing around him, and Vegeta let go with a little _pop_ , only to bury his face deep into the crook of his neck, right where the old hickey was.

Every whine. “Ahhh!” Every short, sharp pant. “Ah, ah, ah—” Every drawn out moan turning into a semblance of his name. “V-Veh… Vah… ohhh, V-ah— _ohh!_ ” It burned him alive, the heat transforming into a full blown inferno.

All he felt was Goku beneath him. Goku around him. Goku’s taste. Goku’s voice, engulfing him. Goku’s scent. His hips, his thighs, his cock, rubbing against him, thrusting together. The desperation. The need. No lingering doubts. No guilt or shame.

Goku was gone, lost to his desire, all because of Vegeta. Because of his mah’kha.

Vegeta sunk his teeth right over the old hickey and sucked it in.

Over the r’bhon’or, he sent over feelings of comfort, of need, of love and of protection and possession. His thoughts accompanied them though he knew they wouldn’t be heard, but he couldn’t hold himself back. _M’yo mah’kha. Mine. I love you. I love you. Come for me, my mate. Let me see you. Let me feel you. I love you._

Then he pinched Goku’s tits fast, with a tiny twist at the end.

Goku _shrieked_.

Vegeta grunted when the fingers on his back dug in a little too deep. Hot wetness sprayed up between them, coating their pelvises and their stomachs. A stray spray hit up between their chests. He groaned and grunted into Goku’s neck as his own orgasm hit him, adding to the cum between them.

For a few blissful moments, he felt nothing but peace. He knew Goku felt the same too.

Slowly, he released Goku’s pecs. He rubbed his palms over the sensitive nubs for a few moments, enjoying the sounds of Goku’s sweet, pained murmurs, paired with his unconscious twitches and hisses. He released his teeth from Goku’s neck after, kissing the marred, purple skin, then trailed kisses up the neck, right to his sweaty cheek. His hands soon followed, cupping Goku’s head and pulling it away from the pillows so he could look at him properly.

Sated eyes. Dilated, heavy-lidded black eyes. Sweaty, red face. Unsteady hot breaths. Well-kissed lips.

Goku’s feeble, broken whisper of his name. “Vegeta…”

Vegeta smiled at the sight.

_Beautiful._

He began to lean in to kiss him, but Goku beat him to it, shoving their lips together, his hands on Vegeta’s back moving to the back of his head and holding him there. A sloppy kiss. A desperate kiss. Goku shivered worse than before as he tried mimicking Vegeta’s previous kisses, tried sucking on his tongue, tried sliding their tongues together, tried tilting Vegeta’s head here and there to make the kiss deeper, better, but he clearly had no idea what he was doing. Vegeta let him do it though. He smiled and chuckled at each frantic, messy kiss, bruising his lips, tiring his mouth, twisting his head here and there, because through it all, he felt Goku’s unsaid, unbridled love attached to no doubt and no shame. That was worth everything.

Eventually, Goku pulled back, holding Vegeta’s head in both of his hands, palms pressed to the sides of his cheeks, mimicking how Vegeta held Goku’s. He watched Goku’s dark eyes take him in, almost dazed, running over his face, his neck, his body, back to his eyes, repeating the process all over again, and he stayed quiet and still, letting him process and feeling that process as well. The awe. The adoration. The need and want. Confusion. Excitement. Uncertainty. But no guilt. No shame.

Goku thumbed the corner of his lips. Thumbed underneath each of Vegeta’s eyes. His eyes shined and twinkled like the sweat on his brow, all from the growing sunlight outside the window.

“This is love, isn’t it?” he whispered. His head shook a little, smiled a little too—a watery smile. “This has to be. I—I’ve never—Vegeta, I _feel_ it.” He took one of his hands away to grasp onto one of Vegeta’s, pressing it palm down over his heart. “Right there. It’s like I have an ache there, but I don’t feel like dying. I feel alive. I feel like—like—” He squeezed Vegeta’s hand. “Gosh, like _exploding_. Like a ball of ki I can’t control. Is that it?”

Vegeta’s vision blurred.

Goku’s nervousness. A different desperation and need, all on the basis of knowing, of confirmation that this was real. That it was the truth. The reappearance of doubt, though as faint as it was, hurt, a lot.

Through the r’bhon’or, he pushed out his own emotions—his love for this man and all he was to him—and he grinned when Goku visibly gasped, his eyes blowing wide open, the unshed tears there pooling into the corners of his tear ducts.

Vegeta nodded once.

He anticipated Goku’s reaction, bracing himself when Goku smashed their lips together and rolled them over on the bed. Goku’s body blanketed his, trembling hands roaming over Vegeta’s sides, Vegeta’s arms, Vegeta’s hair and cheeks and neck and chest. Vegeta chuckled into the kiss, running his fingers through Goku’s black locks, down to his neck and back up again, tempering the kiss, calming the man down, sending over feelings of peace, comfort, love.

Slowly, Goku calmed down, the kiss becoming less frantic, more languid, his roaming hands no longer haphazardly groping and grasping but stroking, soothing. Soon, Goku pulled away from the kiss to press their foreheads together, hot breath coming from his nose and lips with every exhale. Vegeta replied in kind, stroking Goku’s sides and back, petting his hair, his arms, smooth, easy, gliding his palms and fingertips all around him.

Against his chest, he felt Goku’s heart calm itself. Heard it in his breathing, how it tempered out, returned back to normal. Goku stopped his hands over Vegeta’s chest, warm palms resting over each pec, his eyes closed. Vegeta closed his own eyes too, stilling his hands against the middle of Goku’s back.

The vakalelo spoke of love—a burning, needing love, with no shame or guilt or doubt attached. But there was sadness. A profound sadness.

Goku gave that sadness a voice when he said, “I wish we had more time.”

Vegeta sighed. “I know.” He stroked his fingers over the back of Goku’s head, skipping up and down over his black hair. “But we can’t put this off.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

He smirked. “Besides.” He leaned back, pulling away to look at Goku. When the man opened his eyes to focus on him, he said, “Time will be no factor to us.”

Goku’s eyebrows rose, his lips parted. He whispered, “You knew.”

Vegeta nodded. “Most Saiyans on Planet Vegeta died in battle. The oldest person there I can remember was seventy, and he showed no signs of aging.”

“The King says the oldest Saiyan on Sadala was a two hundred years old. We’re going to outlive them all.”

“Yes. Bulma knows this already about me. I suggest you tell your wife the same.”

Goku drifted his gaze away, off to the side of the bed. The old guilt returned through the vakalelo, but not as prominent or strong as before. “I’m going to hurt her,” he said.

Vegeta sent over feelings of reassurance as he replied, “Yes.”

He watched Goku close his eyes, shake his head, drift that head down to his chest and rest his cheek over Vegeta’s heart. There, he heard Goku ask, “How are you so certain Bulma won’t be hurt too?”

“I’m sure she will be.” His hand never stopped stroking Goku’s hair. He brought the other into play. Together, they combed through his hair, fingering the strands, running through his scalp, alternating between it all. “But I know her. I trust her. She will understand.”

Goku’s gentle sigh tickled his skin. “I hope so. As much as I don’t want to hurt Chichi, I think hurting Bulma would hurt me more. She’s my oldest friend. I don’t want to ruin her relationship with you.”

“You won’t. She will understand the ‘urave.’ You could tell Chichi the same.”

He watched Goku’s eyes glance up at him, his lips in a frown. “But I’m not royalty.”

“That is what urave means, yes, but it isn’t exclusive to the royal family. It means you accept someone as part of your life, someone you love and care for, with full awareness that each of your mah’kha’or exists somewhere, either in this lifetime or the next.”

Those black eyes drifted back down and away, staring out into the world. In their reflection, Vegeta caught the sun finishing its ascent into the blue sky, the last of the sunrise fading away. “I’ll try that, I guess.” He rubbed his cheek against Vegeta’s chest a few times before settling again. “I really hope she understands. I just can’t shake off this feeling that she won’t though. I’ve been with her for twenty some years. I don’t see her taking this well whatsoever, and she has every right to be angry at me. I just… Kohltavi warned me, and so far, she’s been right about everything.”

“What did she say?”

“That I won’t have it all.”

Vegeta stilled his movements. He lifted one hand away from Goku’s head to his chin, guiding it up and off his chest, then turning it towards him so he could look him in the eye when he said with conviction and honesty, “You will have me. Forever.”

Goku smiled wide at him, but it was unlike any other he had seen from the man before. It was bright and big, as Goku’s smiles usually were, but there was a softness, a sweet edge to it, that he hadn’t notice him possess. A kindness and a gentleness, yes, but not this. Not this—

Love. That was all Vegeta registered from the r’bhon’or.

Feelings of love, of want and of need, to matching the beautiful, loving smile on Goku’s face.

He watched Goku tilt his head down, drift his gaze down too, right to his chest. Watched how he leaned down and kissed him, right over his heart.

Against it, Goku whispered, “Thank you.”

His arms wrapped around Goku’s shoulders when he laid back down over him like his own personal blanket, cheek returning to its place over his heart. He was sure Goku could hear his faster heartbeat, maybe even the hitch in his breath. But he didn’t hold back his feelings from the r’bhon’or. Goku needed to feel this from him. He had to understand, to know, and he had to know that his Vegeta thanked him for this, understood this importance. 

He felt Goku’s lips move against his skin, the rumble of his husky voice against his chest. “Do you think you teach me this r’bhon’or thing sometime? I’d like to learn and you’re a good teacher.”

Vegeta melted into the sheets, into the warmth of Goku’s large body hugging him from the chest down, into the feelings over the r’bhon’or. Sleep tickled on the edge of his consciousness and he succumbed to it, whispering in reply, “It’d be my pleasure.”

He dozed off to the sensation of another of Goku’s sweet kisses pressing over his heart.

***

A large, warm hand on his shoulder gently roused him from sleep. It shook him a little, followed by the soft whisper of, “Get up, Vegeta.”

He opened his eyes, finding Goku standing on his side of the bed, wearing only his gi pants, his gi top and boots held in one hand. Vegeta stretched his arms overhead as he asked, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, but Beerus and Whis are here.”

“What?!” He shot up from bed, sitting up straight. “When did they arrive?”

“Just a few minutes ago. A servant knocked on the door to tell us.” Goku blushed, scratching the back of his head, gaze turning away from him to the floor. “She looked surprised to see me here.”

“Did you tell her to give us a few minutes?”

“Mhm. She said the King will buy us some time.”

“Good. Get going.” He grabbed Goku’s free arm, snatching up the wrist and pulling him closer to the bed. He then leaned up and Goku smiled down at him, leaning down to meet him in a chaste, quick kiss.

When they pulled away, Vegeta let his hand go and watched Goku put two fingers to his forehead. A moment later, he was gone.

It didn’t take long to wash the cum off his body, dress in his armor and pack his two bags. He did fiddle around with the cape and the stone for a moment before he gathered his things and headed out the door. Servants in the hallway bowed their heads to him as he walked past. Some soldiers repeated the gesture, while others paused mid-step to give him the proper royal salute, a fist over their hearts, arm crossed over the chestplate. He nodded to each one in thanks and goodbye, without a word said.

He walked through a few hallways, heading towards the great double doors, the place he first entered when he arrive two weeks ago. As he reached the doors, he heard and felt the presence of Goku about a yard’s distance away from him. He turned around to greet him—and paused mid-turn, his mouth falling open at what he saw.

No orange gi. It was the Sadalan armor. Goku was wearing the Sadalan armor.

Goku smiled, carrying loads of bags and luggage in each of his arms. “I think I went a bit overboard, _k’ne_?” He shrugged, showing off his ridiculous haul.

Vegeta said nothing. Only looked. Gawked, really.

He didn’t have to wear that armor. He didn’t have to wear it ever again, really. Maybe if they were to return to Universe 6, but not now. Not when they were going home.

And the way he said that Sadalan slang word— _k’ne_ —as if he was a native. As if he belonged here amongst these people. As if he was always a Saiyan and never identified as anything else.

Goku tilted his head. “What?”

“You…” He turned fully to him. Looked him up and down. The corner of his lips curved upward. “You look marvelous.”

“Uhh, thanks?” Goku shrugged. “I’ve worn this before, y’know.”

“Yes, but—” Vegeta let himself grin, let the admiration he felt run through the r’bhon’or. “—you didn’t have to now.”

“I know that.” He smiled, and Vegeta sensed over the r’bhon’or feelings of acceptance, of resolution. “I wanted to. For you.” Goku closed the gap between them, standing almost beside Vegeta, but not quite. He stood a few inches behind him. “A prince needs a royal escort.”

Vegeta almost dropped his bags. The urge to plunder this man’s mouth, to show him how much he appreciated him, loved and needed him—he almost gave in. Almost. But now wasn’t the time.

Instead, he sent over to him feelings of admiration, of thanks, of lust—because _yes_ —and of love. It was all he could do, considering. By the way Goku’s cheeks blossomed a deep pink, and the way his eyes shined, Vegeta knew he got the message, and he turned away, facing the double doors.

With each step, he felt Goku brushing up against his side, close enough to almost be equals, but still keeping a small distance behind. When they finally stood before the double doors, Vegeta closed that very small, very miniscule gap with an easy step back, coming in line with Goku.

The doors opened wide for them, creaking and groaning from the weight. Bright sunlight spilled in from outside, revealing the outside world for them both.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Goku’s perplexed look, felt it over the r’bhon’or.

Vegeta smirked, the light warming his skin. “This prince doesn’t need an escort.” He turned to him as the doors finished opening. “He needs his mate.”

The doors slammed against the outside walls of the palace. Warm sunlight greeted them, engulfing them both. He knew there were people there, the ki of the royal family, Whis and Beerus too most likely, but he ignored that for a few seconds. All so he could look at Goku. His mate. His mah’kha. How the sunlight glistened in his hair, over the Sadalan armor, made his black eyes shine, bathed him in that light that Vegeta associated so much with him.

Goku’s smile outshined the sun itself. A perfect child of Soli. “Vegeta…”

He nodded to Goku before turning his attention to the world before them.

It was just like the day they arrived. Two long rows of soldiers dressed in white and gold Sadalan armor lined the pathway, swords attached to their hips, two spears secured to their backs. At the end of the pathway were the cube they arrived in, a smiling Whis, an annoyed cross-armed Beerus, and the entire royal family, dressed in their finest clothes.

Vegeta strode forward with perfect poise and posture, Goku flanking his side. His cape fluttered in the wind as they walked in time with each other, The Royal Guard nodding to them as they passed. Once at the very end of the pathway, Vegeta noticed a familiar face nod to him, and he smirked in recognition at who it was.

“I see you’ve gotten a promotion,” he said to Cabba, who grinned in return. “Congratulations.”

“D’in m’yo, Master.” He bowed deeply to Vegeta, crossing an arm over his chest, a fist landing over his heart. “Until we meet again.”

“Train hard. I expect a better match up next time.”

“Aiii, ve’ho’ti Vegeta!”

Vegeta continued forward, dropping his bags to the ground when he stood before the royal family. Goku followed suit. Two servants arrived from the sidelines, gathering up their items and bringing them on board. As that happened, the King stepped forward, offering a hand to Vegeta.

“Safe travels, ve’ho’ti Vegeta. May the goddesses watch over you both.”

Vegeta clasped the offered hand, squeezing it hard. He nodded once. “D’in m’yo, Ve’ho Sadala. V’ila ko’shi Ve’ho.”

The King nodded in return, releasing the grip first. He then turned to Goku and said, “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to spar.”

“That’s okay! Next time.” Goku put a fist to his heart, arm over his chest and bowed deeply to the King. “D’in m’yo. V’ila ko’shi Ve’ho.”

Vegeta heard the King reply under his breath, “Perfectly said, Goku.”

When Goku lifted his head again, Chikora stood before him, holding a familiar sight—the stone Vegeta saw in the wasteland, the night Goku recovered all of his lost memories. The stone was attached to a gold chain, about the same size and shape as the one Vegeta wore around his own neck.

“Lady Kohltavi recovered this for me, but I want you to have it.” Chikora lifted it up and Goku bowed his head to her. She placed it around his neck as she said, “May it protect you and guide you when you need it most.”

He didn’t miss the shine in Goku’s eyes and the emotion in his voice when he replied, “D’in m’yo, ve’ho’tah Chikora.” He flung his large arms around her slender frame, hugging her tight. Muffled and soft as it was, Vegeta heard his next words. “M’eh’ba di’pho au.” _I’ll miss you._

Chikora hugged him back in return. Over Goku’s shoulder, Vegeta saw her big smile and he nodded to her when she sent that smile his way. As they parted, she kissed Goku’s cheek, before stepping back and turning her attention to Vegeta. “Do you have all the books you need?”

“Aiii, ve’ho’tah. You’ve done more than necessary.” He bowed at the waist and took her hand in his, kissing the top of her knuckles. “D’in m’yo.”

She squeezed his hand in return, bringing it back to her side. “Take care of him, and yourself, ve’ho’ti Vegeta. May the goddesses keep you and yours safe.”

He nodded to her. The last of the family—the two twins—stepped forward. They looked like perfect princes, standing tall, composed, collected. But Vegeta knew an upset child when he saw it. They were doing their best to hold it back, but it was beyond obvious.

As one, they hit their fists to their hearts and bowed deeply to them both, even saying in unison, “Goodbye, Master Goku, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.”

Vegeta watched Goku drop to his knees before both of them and wrap his big arms around each prince, hugging them tight. He smiled at how the princes lost their composure, staring at each other from over each of Goku’s shoulders in shock, and then gave in, burying their faces into either side of Goku’s neck, clinging to either side of his back.

After a few moments, Goku pulled back, only to kiss each of the princes on top of their heads. He then knelt back onto his heels, a hand on each of their shoulders as he switched his attention between each of them. “Train hard and study well, you two. We’ll see each other again, _k’ne_?”

The twins nodded together, both sporting watery smiles and unshed tears in each of their eyes. “Aiii, Master Goku!”

Goku smiled and squeezed their shoulders one last time before standing up and returning to his place by Vegeta’s side. Vegeta dropped his smile though when he turned his attention to the two princes, and he saw their whole demeanor change back to the stoic, emotionless princes before. Though, he could see the fear there.

“Bring honor to the house of Sadala.” He glared at the end, an unspoken _or else._

The princes saluted him one more time, shouting in unison, “Aiii, ve’ho’ti Vegeta!”

“Can we get _on_ with this already?” Beerus growled, tapping a claw onto his bicep. “I want to get back to Earth before that pink blob eats everything.”

Whis chuckled. “As you wish, sire.” He gestured to the cube with his staff. “Off we go, you two. There’s a delicious ‘welcome home’ feast waiting for you when we arrive.”

On cue, Goku’s stomach grumbled aloud. Vegeta chuckled, shaking his head, while Goku giggled, scratching the back of his head.

Beerus entered the cube first, followed by Whis. Goku lingered for a moment, gazing out at the royal family and all the Saiyans there, before he too turned around and walked up the ramp. Vegeta took up the rear, not hesitating in his steps.

He did pause, though, when he heard the King shout, loud and clear: “Soldiers of Sadala! Honor them!”

Vegeta turned around halfway up the ramp to watch the entire Royal Guard unsheathe their swords, lift them into the air and shout in unison words he never thought he’d ever hear:

“V’ila ko’shi Ve’ho Vegeta et Isine!”

_Long live King Vegeta the Fourth._

“Uzko du Soli! Tor vuma uthi’ho!”

_Glory to Soli. Tor be praised._

“M’na’et cha’ir nge’bo n’jalo!”

_May the goddesses be with them always._

His vision blurred.

He looked out amongst the royal guard, the royal family. The King’s smirk, akin to his own. Chikora’s pleased smile. The twins and their cheeky grins.

Vegeta swallowed against the lump in his throat.

With a last nod, he turned on his heel, his chest upright, his head held high, as he entered the cube, where Goku and the others waited for him.

The cube lifted into the air as he stood beside Goku, arms by his sides. Everything grew smaller in size. The royal family. The royal guards. The palace itself. All the Saiyans outside, living their lives, bartering in the yokuthensai, marching inside the palace walls, cooking, playing music, eating, laughing, unaware of the cube above them. Unaware of the people looking down at them as they rose higher into the sky.

Soon he could see no people, only the palace. The exact carbon copy of his own lost home, the long spires twisting and turning towards the blue sky, the many stained glass windows, until that too faded away under a sea of white clouds. They breeched the atmosphere, the sky turning black, revealing thousands of stars, and the light of the planet itself. As gold as the sun it revolved around. But it had a tint of silver to it—a very faint tint, but it was there, as silver as the moon that orbited around the planet.

Beside him, he felt Goku’s fingers brushing his, and Vegeta didn’t hesitate to grasp them, squeezing hard. Feelings of comfort, of shared remorse, of sadness came over the r’bhon’or, followed by Goku squeezing his fingers in return. He returned the favor, sending over feelings of comfort too, and sadness as well, so Goku would know he wasn’t alone.

They didn’t let go until the planet faded away in the portal of blue-violet light.

***

Three hours passed by rather quickly, compared to the trip coming. Vegeta spent his time meditating alone, shutting off Goku from the r’bhon’or, but only after he sent over feelings of comfort and reassurance. When he felt Goku return the favor with feelings of acceptance, then he shut the r’bhon’or down, clearing his mind of all thoughts and emotions. It helped considerably.

He came out of his deep meditation when Whis announced they were back. Earth did look beautiful as they approached, its blue-green light welcoming them home with wide arms, but it wasn’t like when they first came to Planet Sadala. Yes, he was thrilled to see Bulma, Trunks and Bulla again, but the ache of departure, of leaving his people, still remained.

It helped that he didn’t feel so alone. Over the r’bhon’or, he felt the same emotions from Goku. The sadness, the wistfulness, and the joy, most likely from wanting to see his family again too. But there was an emotion that made Vegeta pause. Fear. Fear, doubt, and guilt.

The sight of Capsule Corp grew in size as the cube lowered to the ground. He smiled when he made out the figures of Bulma waving with one arm, the other holding Bulla on her hip. Trunks and Goten stood side by side, waving as well with both arms. In the back stood Chichi, Gohan, Videl, their daughter Pan, Piccolo, Mr. Satan, and even Krillin was there with Eighteen and Marron.

Trunks and Goten rushed over as the cube came to a stop, landing onto the Capsule Corp back lawn. In that moment, he could see the twin princes, chattering in Sadalan, as loud and as boisterous as these two, their voices overlapping the other. “Hi Papa!” “Hey Dad!” “We missed you!” “Did you get us anything?” “Yeah, didja?”

Whis exited the cube first, Beerus second. They came to a stop before Bulma and Bulla, chatting with her. He overheard the word ‘feast’ and with a nod from Bulma and a “right over there,” they both zipped off to the right, where tables upon tables laid, hosting piles and piles of meats, fruits and many sweet delicacies.

Goku walked down the ramp next, carrying his ridiculous amount of bags. Vegeta took up the rear as he heard Goku shout, “Hey everyone! I got gifts for ya!” He dumped them to the ground as Goten rushed over to his side, opening his arms up to him. “Hey buddy! Didja miss me?”

“Ya huh!” Goten hugged Goku hard, his small arms clinging to his neck.

He tuned out Goten’s babbling, recapping what he did while they were gone, turning his attention to his son. He dropped his bags to the ground as Trunks walked up to him with a big grin and equally big eyes, looking him up and down.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it, boy?”

“You look like a prince, papa.” Trunks looked behind him, then the front, then up and down again, his tone full of awe and admiration. “I know you always said you were one, but seeing you like this…” He met his eye again, shaking his head. “ _Wow_.”

He smiled. With one gloved hand, he rested it on top of his son’s head, ruffling it a little. Trunks chuckled, swatting at his arm.

“Well now.” He pulled his hand away and looked ahead, meeting Bulma’s gaze, their daughter’s chunky, tiny arms reaching out to him from her place on her mother’s hip. She, too, look him up and down, though not with admiration, but obvious arousal. “That’s a sight to see.”

“Hn.” He reached for Bulla, putting her on his lap. She settled down instantly, resting her chubby cheek to his shoulder. He placed a hand against her warm, soft back, rubbing his palm up and down. Under his breath, he muttered, with a smirk, “Down, girl.”

Bulma winked. He chuckled as he watched her walk away towards Goku, who was now surrounded by all of his family, Gohan with Pan on his hip, Videl by his side, Goten staring up at him in awe, and Chichi, who was currently conversing with the man. She didn’t look annoyed or angry, something he was used to seeing on the woman. She looked a little relieved, and a little concerned too.

Over the r’bhon’or, he felt Goku’s worry, and his shame. The tell-tale, old shame. Vegeta sighed. Sending over any feelings of reassurance would be useless. The man had to deal with this on his own. When it was time to help, he would be there, giving Goku what he needed from him.

The party went by fast. He kept Bulla on his hip most of the time, his princess refusing to leave his side. Whenever Bulma or Trunks tried to take her away, she would cry and beat her little fists against whoever it was, until he took her back. Bulma made a few quips about her being a ‘spoiled princess,’ and he only smirked in reply.

As good as the food was on Sadala, nothing compared to the meal he had here, sitting with his family, and his newfound mah’kha. He occasionally looked over at Goku and noticed how relaxed he was, thankfully. He watched him converse with Krillin, chat with Eighteen, listen to his son Gohan talk about his work, laugh at whatever bad pun Mr. Satan conjured up, babble babytalk to his granddaughter Pan. But it was around Chichi that he saw _and_ felt the change there. He smiled at her, he talked to her, he felt fondness over the r’bhon’or for her, but it was marred by heavy shame and guilt. So much so that Vegeta had to shut down the r’bhon’or whenever Goku started chatting with his wife. He didn’t need that guilt to filter through to him.

By sunset, the party came to an end. Gohan and Videl left first with Piccolo and Mr. Satan, a sleepy Pan hugging her dad with her short arms. Krillin, Eighteen and Marron departed next, waving goodbye as they drove away. The last were Beerus and Whis, both satisfied and stuffed. Everyone parted with the gifts Goku brought for all of them from Sadala, which thankfully reduced the amount of bags and luggage he initially came with.

It was then that Goku finally met his eye—and Vegeta opened the r’bhon’or then to feel his emotions. Guilt, of course. Shame, as usual. Fear, insurmountable volumes of fear, and Vegeta sent over feelings of comfort and love without pause. He knew it worked when he saw Goku smile at him, and feelings of love and thanks came over the r’bhon’or.

He watched and heard Goku turn to his wife at the table they sat at and ask, “How about we let Goten stay the night here with Trunks?”

“What, really?!” Goten bounced up and down in his seat. “Please, mom, please? Can I? Trunks can help me with my homework and I’ll do it, I promise!”

Chichi blinked a few times, turning to Goku, then Goten, then back to Goku. Then she smiled and nodded, before turning back to Goten and frowning. “If I don’t see all of your math problems completed, sir, you’ll be stuck doing chores for a week.”

“Of course, mom, I’ll get it done, I promise!” He flew over the table to hug and kiss Chichi, shouting, “Thank you!” Then to Goku, hugging him extra tighter, rubbing his cheek to his dad’s. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

As Goten flew over to Trunks, who met his best friend with the same amount of glee, he watched Goku turn to his wife and whisper something he couldn’t pick up. She nodded to him, and as one, they stood up from the table, turning to Bulma and himself. “We’ll see you tomorrow to pick up Goten,” Chichi said. “Is ten or eleven okay to you?”

“Eleven’s perfect,” Bulma replied. “Have a good night, you two.”

Goku met his eye for a brief moment, a small smile on his face. “Night.”

Vegeta briefly opened the r’bhon’or to send over feelings of comfort before the man put his two fingers to his forehead, his other hand wrapped around Chichi’s waist. He felt a brief feeling of thanks before Goku disappeared, his ki leaving completely.

Beside him, Bulma asked, “Is it just me, or did something feel off between them?”

He sighed. Closed his eyes. _Leave it to her to see the obvious._ He then turned to her and said, “We need to talk.”

Bulma’s blue eyes adopted a hard edge. She nodded, rising from the table and resting a soft hand over his shoulder. “Let me get the kids settled first.”

Vegeta nodded.

Her kiss to his cheek felt nice. Like home. But there was an uneasiness in his stomach, something akin to dread. Something that Goku would feel.

Vegeta left the table after Bulma did with Bulla. From the corner of his vision, he noticed something, and when he turned, he found Goku’s original bags there, still on the lawn where he left it initially. He gathered them up with his own and took them to the bedroom, where he waited for Bulma to finish with the children.

About an hour later, Bulma entered their bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed with perfect posture, still dressed in his full regalia, hands resting on top of his thighs.

She smiled at him. “The kids really missed you,” she said.

“Hn.”

“It was a bit quiet without you here.” She walked over, taking a seat beside him. “Sounds like the trip was great.”

He nodded.

“Did you learn anything new there?”

Vegeta felt his throat dry up, his stomach twist. His lungs became heavy. Guilt. Shame. The r’bhon’or was closed, but the residuals were there—feelings that weren’t his.

_Damn you Kakarot._

He nodded again.

She scooted closer on the bed. “Like what?”

He closed his eyes. Took in a deep breath. On the exhale, he blindly searched out for one of her hands and found it easily, twining their fingers together over the top of his hip.

“I don’t speak much of my home world because there’s a lot I couldn’t remember. Going to Sadala helped piece together what I knew and filled in the massive gaps I had. I learned many things there that I do wish to share with you, but there’s one I must tell you about first.”

“And that is…?”

Shame. Guilt. Doubt. He squeezed Bulma’s hand and said, “I have not said this enough to you in our time together, but I love you, Bulma. If my planet had survived, you would’ve been queen, and our children proclaimed royalty, blood be damned. Father might’ve hated our coupling—” He chuckled. “—but mother would’ve put him in his place. You two would’ve gotten along well. She was a brilliant woman who valued science and math over everything.”

From his purview, he saw Bulma’s parted lips, the shock in her eyes. “Wow. You’ve never spoken about her to me. Your dad, sometimes, but…” She shook her head, leaning in. “Vegeta, what the hell happened out there? Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I need you to know how much I’m grateful to have you in my life. This home we’ve built. Our family.” He turned to fully face her as he said, “I wouldn’t be who I am now if it wasn’t for your hard work and sacrifices.”

“What the—” She slipped her hand out of his, pointing at him. “Okay, who are you and what the hell have you done with my husband?”

Vegeta chuckled. He pushed down her pointed finger so he could clasp her hand again in his. “He’s right here. He just…” He sighed, squeezing that hand again as he looked away for a moment. “He discovered something he didn’t know he needed. Something he searched his whole life, as all Saiyans on Sadala apparently do. We on Planet Vegeta didn’t, but—.”

“For God’s sake, stop keeping me in suspense and say it already.”

He looked right at her and said, “I’m in love with Kakarot.”

Bulma’s blue eyes bugged out. Her mouth fell wide open.

Vegeta held onto her hand and waited.

She blinked once. Twice. Slowly the third time. Even slower after that.

Her hand didn’t move from his. She didn’t move.

Vegeta watched her visibly deflate on her next exhale. “Huh.” How she looked down to the ground. Blinked one more time, and said, “Well. That’s… a little surprising.”

He squeezed her hand again. “I value you no less than him, nor will I be leaving you for him. You are my wife—my urave. I will not abandon you.”

The shock melted away when Bulma lifted her head, a small smile rising on her face. “That’s good to know.” Then the confusion. The curiosity. “But how did this happen? What changed?”

“On Sadala, they value something called mah’kha’or—mates. Your other half. They search their entire lives finding that one person, and if they don’t in that lifetime, they will find it in the next. It’s part of their history that mirrored Planet Vegeta’s own, almost point by point, except for a major change. But that’s not the point. When a Saiyan doesn’t find their mah’kha in that lifetime, they still fall for someone. That person is called their ‘urave,’ or ‘only royalty.’” He ran his thumb over the top of her knuckles. “You are that, Bulma. You are my ‘urave.’ Saiyans do not abandon their urave if they happen to come across their mah’kha. You keep both.” He swallowed, his throat dry, his voice lowering. “But it is up to the urave if they want to stay or not.”

He let her hand go when she began to pull her arm back. He watched Bulma lay it onto her own lap, watched her eyes drift down to the ground—to his hands, their hands. Their bed. The floor of this room.

Silence. Thick, heavy silence.

The doubt returned. The guilt. None that he would possess usually.

Those feelings disappeared when Bulma said, “I gotta say, this is a lot to take in.” She met his eye again, a frown on her face, her eyebrows knitted together. Angry, yes. But there was something else there. Something reassuring. “I’m a bit pissed.”

“As you should be.”

Bulma smiled, and he saw it then. Amusement. Angry, and amused. “But I know you, Vegeta. You mean every word. You won’t abandon us. I know Saiyans live for a long time, so I knew the day would come when you’d fall for someone else.” Then that smile turned a little sad. “I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

“I didn’t expect it at all. You’re all I wanted, and still do.”

She nodded, scooting closer to him on the bed. “What do we do now? How does this work?”

“We will figure it out in time.”

“Mm.” Bulma leaned into him, resting her head onto his shoulder. “That’s why Goku left with Chichi only, isn’t it? So he could tell her too.”

He watched her hand reach for his and he met it, twining their fingers together. “He’s worried sick about you both. He never wanted to hurt either of you.”

“And you? Did you care about hurting me?”

He laid the side of his cheek against the side of her head. “Unlike Kakarot, I had complete trust and confidence in my Bulma.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But if you are angry and hurt over this, then be angry and hurt. It’s justified, and nothing I say or do will quell that.” He squeezed her hand, turning his head to whisper into her scalp, “But you _know_ what you mean to me. You _know_ my word is gold. You _know_ it is hard for me to tell you this.” He took in her scent, her shampoo, her perfume. On the exhale, he sighed and then said, “But you deserve this. More than ever, you deserve my bare honesty.”

Warm breath tickled the side of his neck, his shoulder. She squeezed his hand in return. “Y’know, you’re making it awfully hard to stay pissed at you.”

“I could go blow up your shoe collection if you’d like—”

“Hey!” She jerked away, yanking her hand out of his to point him in the face again. “Don’t you fucking dare!” She accented her words with a big, amused grin. “You two-timing piece of shit Saiyan!”

He chuckled as he leaned in, kissing her soft lips. Vegeta leaned back for a moment to look her in the eyes and whisper the words he never said enough to this woman. “I love you, Bulma. My urave.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you too—” Kissed him in return, on the lips. “You big fat jerk.” She nudged his nose with hers. “Who taught you to be this thoughtful and mature, hmm?”

“I’m looking at her.”

“You’re supposed to crack a joke, idiot.”

“Not now. Not when it comes to this.” He brushed the back of his gloved fingertips down the side of her face. “To you.”

She leaned in, covering his mouth with hers. He let her pull him to the bed, blanketing her body with his. Vegeta settled between her open legs as he parted his mouth for her, letting her take control of the kiss. Letting her make claim upon his body, as his urave should.

Her nails combed through his hair, raked down his back. He hissed into her mouth, rubbed against her soft, warm body, and he smiled as she giggled into their next kiss, their tongues meeting finally. He succumbed to her body, to her ministrations, thinking of nothing but this. His urave here, his mah’kha in his heart, his home, his family. His kingdom. Everything he ever wanted and needed. They were his. He won it all.

Bulma ended their kiss to nudge his nose again with hers. Against his lips, she whispered, “You’ve come so far, Vegeta. I’m so proud of you.” He smiled at her little shrug and curved, smirked lips. “Still annoyed—”

“As you should be.”

“Damn right.” She sighed, giving him another peck of lips, before saying, “But we’ll figure this out. I know you’re not leaving us and I _know_ Goku doesn’t have a mean bone in his whole body, so there’s zero fear of him taking you away. The man probably has no idea how to seduce anyone to begin with.”

“That is a very fair assessment.”

That smirk. The one that never failed to drive Vegeta crazy. The teasing smirk to match her teasing voice. “First hand knowledge?”

“Vulgar woman.” And he dove back in, sealing her lips with his.

Clothes flew off, littering around the bed. The sounds of heavy breathing, drawn out moans, long, lingering kisses. Whatever could’ve been said next between them didn’t matter for now. His urave needed the full, undivided attention of her prince.

***

Goku hated this. Hated the way she looked at him, the silence between them, the unreadable expression on her face, her whole stoic demeanor. She sat across from him at the kitchen table, hands on her lap, her jaw set, her lips a thin line, and he could read nothing at all. Nothing.

He wanted her to scream, to yell. To slap him stupid. To tell him to get the hell out of her house and out of her life. Tell him that she hurt him, how dare he do that to her, after everything she’d done for him, after everything she’d been through.

But she didn’t. She said nothing.

Chichi just sat there and stared, right at him. Silent as a statue.

The weight of his confession, his words, still lingered in the air, between them. He wasn’t ignorant of that. But she didn’t react. She did nothing, the exact opposite of what Goku anticipated, and—

He froze as her mouth parted. Visibly tried to form a word. Closed it again.

A wobbly bottom lip.

Her eyes, pooling with unshed tears.

Goku felt his chest tighten. The weight on his shoulders tripled. He resisted the urge to reach over to her, to stand up and cross over to her and hug her tight. That was the last thing she needed from him.

Her lips still moved, but formed no words.

Then, she shook her head.

Goku’s own vision blurred as she cupped a shaky hand over her mouth, muffling a sudden sob.

He refused to look away, taking the punishment with every sob she made, every shake of her body, every curl of her shoulders. Every tear that came down each cheek, every shake of her head, every sharp intake of breath, every trembling exhale. Each one punched his heart. Each one caved in his stomach. Each one twisted his throat, pummeled his head, and he knew he deserved it. He deserved this.

None of the thoughts he wanted to voice aloud would’ve made a difference. No _I’m sorry_. No _I never wanted to hurt you_. No _I still care about you._ None of it would’ve helped. Because as sorry as he was, as terrible and ashamed as he felt, and as much as he truly did care about her, Goku knew full well he was going to hurt Chichi. He knew this was coming.

It still hurt, seeing how broken she was. The devastation. If it had been anger, rage, screaming, yelling—anything he had anticipated, maybe even _hoped_ for—that would’ve been preferable to this, watching the woman he knew for twenty-some years falling to pieces in the kitchen of the place they called home for so long. And it was his doing. His willing, conscious choices.

There was no way he could’ve held back the truth. Part of him wanted to just keep it off for a little longer, only focus on the good things, like the fact that he learned more about his Saiyan roots, and the fact that he knew more about his parents, and the fact that he could speak some Sadalan now. But that opened the floodgates to what else happened, and he couldn’t hold back from Chichi once he started talking. He couldn’t delay the inevitable, not when he knew Vegeta swore to him he was going to tell Bulma the second they returned.

But it still hurt, watching the joy from her face drain away, leaving that stoic look behind. It hurt terribly, watching her break down like this. He deserved it though. He deserved—

“Why, Goku?” Goku watched her hand leave her mouth, how she sniffed and coughed, clearing her throat. “Why him? Of all the people in the universe, why him?”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. Almost didn’t recognize his own voice when he replied, “On Sadala, they believe they’re destined to find their mate in this life or the next. If you don’t, you have someone called an urave—”

“I don’t give a shit about any of that.” There was the anger he anticipated. Simmering there, under the tears and the sadness. “I want to know why you chose him, why you picked that man over me.” The anger grew in time with the rising of her voice. “Do you even care about him like that? Do you even know what you did with him? You hurt me. I deserve to know if he’s worth it, if it’s just a fling or whatever.”

The residual feelings—Vegeta’s awe, his love, that warmth—blossomed inside. Even now, with all the anguish and sadness and guilt he felt, those feelings never left. That warmth still blanketed him whole. His mate’s umoya.

His Vegeta.

He barely recognized his own hoarse whisper. “I love him.”

“Does _he?_ Is he even capable of it?”

“Yes. Absolutely yes.” The tears finally fell when he said, “It’s me who isn’t.”

Chichi frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Love, Chichi. I never knew what that was. I know I love you—” She glared at him and he felt a little better, seeing that glare. “—I do, even now, even though I hurt you. You’ve sacrificed a lot for me. You held my hand through so many things, raised our kids, dealt with all the things I brought to your doorstep—you’re the strongest woman I know.” The tears kept falling. He didn’t bother stopping them. “All you ever wanted was me. I could see that, the day we met at the Tenkaichi Budokai. I’m all you ever wanted.”

She nodded yes, her own tears finally falling too.

“That’s why I said yes to you, Chichi. I know I promised you and even though I had no idea what being married was, promises mean a lot to me. You know that. But I saw how much you wanted me, and I never had someone want me like that. Before you, I had no idea what a relationship could be. You taught me that. You.” He heard his voice turn watery, hitching here and there. “But I learned on Sadala that love is a choice. Love is work. I love you, and I still do, but Vegeta… I just…” He sniffed, a watery smile appearing on his face. “Gosh, I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“You need to,” she said, wiping at her eyes and cheeks. The anger in her tone felt right, justified, needed. “I deserve that at least.” Goku needed her anger. Her rage in her questions. Her demands. “What does he offer that I don’t? Why did you do it? Why _him?_ ”

“Because he—he is—” He shut his eyes, bathing himself in the lingering umoya around him, inside him, the warmth and the love and everything Vegeta, everything from his mah’kha, and the tears flowed as his words did. “He is my other half. He challenges me, balances me, knows me—really _knows_ me, in and out. Every flaw, every stupid thing I’ve done or said, every way I’ve made an ass of myself, and he doesn’t care. He’s seen me at my lowest, at my best, and all he wants is for me to be _me_. He doesn’t want me any other way. He taught me so many things. He listens to me. He never forces me into anything. He lets me choose. Lets me decide. Doesn’t act differently if it’s something he doesn’t like or anything, he doesn’t try to get anything out of me, he just—he lets me _be,_ and I just—I don’t think I’ve had that in a long time. To just be.” He feels his lips quivering, his heart beating, his stomach twisting up, the umoya warring with his feelings of shame, for saying this, of guilt, for doing this to Chichi, but the words keep coming. “I feel alive with him. I feel free. He’s been by my side in so many ways and I trust him, I trust him with my life, because I know him. I know he’ll be there, waiting for me, watching over me, taking care of me, and it’s like—like I waited my _whole life_ for him, just like they say on Sadala. Like I was searching the universe for him.” He bowed his neck as he rested a trembling hand over his heart, the pinprick of hot tears hitting his knuckles. “I feel it, Chi. Right here. I feel it. It’s still so weird to me to feel something literally right from my heart, but it’s there. It’s real.” He let out a sob, shaking his head, pressing his hand harder to his chest, the edge of Chikora’s stone rubbing against his skin. “And I _hate_ that I’m sharing this with you, because I’m only hurting you more, and you don’t deserve that. I broke our promise. I hurt you.” Another sob came out, his hand turning into a fist. “Please, Chichi, hate me. Please hate me. I never want you to stop hating me because I deserve this, but I couldn’t lie to you, I couldn’t hold this back. You’ve done so much and you deserve—”

“I deserve nothing.”

Goku snapped his head up, focusing his blurry vision on Chichi across the table. “What?”

She wasn’t crying anymore, nor did she harbor any of that anger. She was back to the stoic statue, emotionless, her voice as cold as her whole demeanor. “If I told you I would forgive you, only if you never saw Vegeta again, would you do it?”

His heart screamed. His lungs tightened to the point of suffocation.

Slowly, his fist drifted away from his chest to his lap.

Dead silence, yet again.

Chichi’s hands rested on top of the table. The kitchen light casted dark shadows over her expressionless face.

He felt numb everywhere. Not even the warmth of Vegeta’s umoya remained.

The world came to a stop when Chichi said, “Would you promise me that?”

Cold, all over. Freezing cold.

His cheeks felt raw and cold. His arms. His legs.

Nothingness inside his mind or his body. Empty nothingness.

Chichi stared right at him, waiting. Sitting perfectly still, perfectly sitting up straight.

Slowly, he nodded his head.

“Positive?” she asked.

His mouth felt dry. “I won’t hurt you again.” He refused to shut his eyes or look away as he said, “If that’s what you want, I’d do it.”

“And that’s why I deserve nothing.” She stood up from the chair, walking over to the kitchen window. Listened to her sniff, watched her wipe at her eyes again, her cheeks, before folding her arms over her chest, staring out to the forest outside. “It just hit me, really, that I have always loved you more than you have for me. I figured that was just who you were, maybe something from your Saiyan heritage—like Saiyans had no capacity to really love like I loved you.” She sighed. He saw her faint reflection in the window, a wry smile appearing on her pale face. “But I see now that isn’t the case.” Then she looked over her shoulder, and he saw that sad smile, the faint tear stains on her cheeks and lashes. “I can see it, right here, right in front of me. You love him, Goku. You actually love him, with all your heart and soul.”

His vision blurred again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.”

He sobbed, “Please hate me.”

“Why?” She turned fully around, unfurling her crossed arms. “How can I hate you when you’ve done nothing but sacrifice time and time again for the good of the world and our family?”

Goku shot up from his chair. “So have you!”

“On a promise you didn’t understand.” She walked over to him. “A promise you kept because a promise was unbreakable.”

He trembled all over. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. She closed the gap between them, standing in front of him, and he shook his head no, heard the shakiness in his voice. “Chi, I… I hurt you. I love you.”

“I know you do.” That sad smile. Her sadness. The brush of her fingertips over his cheek, wiping away the tears that kept coming. “But not like Vegeta.”

He collapsed around her, wrapping his arms around her lithe frame. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and hugged her tight, mindful of his strength when he heard a small grunt from her. It hurt when she wrapped her arms back, one hand coming to his hair to pet him there

With her lips close to his ear, Goku heard her whisper, “Does he love you too?”

He nodded into her neck, whispering back, “Yes.”

Her soothing pets to his hair felt nice. Felt good. So did her voice. “You deserve that, Goku. Not hate or resentment or anything. You deserve to feel love and be loved by someone who adores you with all his heart and soul.”

Goku let out another sob. Let himself stay around Chichi. Not let her go. “I’m so sorry Chichi.”

“Shh.”

“I shouldn’t have done this.”

“It’s okay.”

“I should’ve—”

“Shh. It’s okay.”

He grit his teeth, hissing into her neck, “You _have_ to hate me. You have to.”

She pushed him away to hold him by his shoulders. Goku met her eye and saw the hurt there, the sadness, but also, acceptance. Resignation. A sight that hurt as much as a blow to the chest.

“I’m hurt, yes,” she said. “But I can’t hate you. I’ll always love you.”

He slid his arms away from her back to hold both of her hands in his, squeezing them as he spoke. “On Sadala, you’d be called my urave. You’re part of my family. I want that for us, Chi. For you.”

She squeezed his hands in return. “Maybe. It’s still raw for me.”

Goku nodded, releasing her hands. He brought his own to his sides. “I can leave if you’d like.”

Chichi shook her head no. “This is still your home. If you’d like to leave, you can, but I’m not kicking you out. Not when…” She sighed, stepping a few feet away from Goku. “It’s better if I show you. Wait here.”

Goku watched her leave the kitchen for the living room. From the doorway, he watched Chichi kneel down in front of the couch and push back part of the floor board. She reached inside, and his jaw dropped when she brought out the old black suitcase, full of zeni. The hundred million zeni.

He stared at it, at her, as she walked back to the kitchen, standing before him. She placed it down on the table and opened it up. Not as many bills were inside like the last time he saw the briefcase. But it was full enough. More than full.

She met his gaze, and Goku saw it. The same feelings he felt for so long, reflected back to him. Guilt and shame, from Chichi.

“You’re not the only guilty one here,” she said. “I never should’ve lied to you about this. I know I did it so you would stay around more, maybe even take up farming more seriously, be a good example for Pan.” She sighed, that embarrassed gaze drifting down to the floor. “I was just lying to myself.”

“Chi, it’s okay,” he said. “You had good intentions.”

She met his eye again. Gone was the embarrassment. Now that gaze was steely-eyed, focused, determined. “Would you hate me for that, then? For lying to you?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.”

“But what I did—”

“It’s done and over with.” She rested a hand onto his bicep. “Focus on what you have now, Goku.” She squeezed it. “You’ve found love. Real love.” Then came the watery, sad smile. “How can I hold you back from that?”

Something inside broke, and Goku reacted on it, flinging his arms around Chichi, hugging her tight to her chest. He forgot his strength for a moment, lifting her up off the ground and swinging her a little, and he controlled himself soon after, bringing her back to the floor, easing up on his grip. But he didn’t let go. Not yet. He couldn’t. This woman, his wife, his urave—even if she wasn’t ready to take that on, even if she never wanted to be one ever—she was still the person who was there from the beginning, the one who was by his side, who taught him everything about relationships. She was his Chichi, and she was doing this for him. Offering him this. Not absolving him of his sins, but understanding. Accepting. Another sacrifice.

He didn’t let go until she felt her push at his shoulders yet again. Goku wiped at his eyes and his face as she did. They looked at each other with matching sad, small smiles, and Goku shut his eyes when Chichi leaned forward to rest a hand on his sternum, come to her tip toes and kiss him on the cheek.

“Take the money, Goku,” she said, “and start being the real you.”

Goku held back a sob as he nodded.

“Would you like to stay the night here?” she asked.

He nodded again. “Yes, please.”

She took his hand in his and Goku followed her all the way up the stairs to their bedroom. He didn’t bother taking off most of the Sadalan armor. It didn’t feel right sleeping together like they used to. Not after what happened. Not after what was said. He took the breastplate off, and the necklace, and his boots, but that was it. The rest stayed.

Chichi took her side of the bed, curling up into the sheets. Goku spooned her from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist. He kept a good distance away from her back, staring at her now long hair, wavy from the bun it was held in, and he shut his eyes, taking in her scent for the last time.

He fell asleep to the sensation of her lips kissing his knuckles.

***

The next day, Goku packed his bags and left his home on Mt. Paozu, carrying almost 20 million zeni with him in that briefcase. Chichi offered him a packed lunch, which he refused to accept. He picked a spot that was a halfway point between his old home and West City, and thanks to Bulma’s help, set up a capsule home that he could call his own.

Over the course of the week, everyone learned of what had happened on Planet Sadala. Trunks didn’t care much, only that it was ‘weird.’ Same with Piccolo. Gohan was confused and concerned for each of his parents, as were Videl and Mr. Satan. Goten harbored ill will and resentment towards his father, feelings that Chichi knew would fade with time, but they hurt Goku nonetheless.

The rest were shocked and confused, but no one outright rejected how things were now. Vegeta was still with Bulma, and Chichi wasn’t angry or resentful about Goku’s choice. She wasn’t driving over to Goku’s new place or anything, but she wasn’t badmouthing him either. So they accepted it and that was it—much to Goku’s relief.

Eventually, time passed. Life moved on.

***

_Three months later…_

***

With five minutes left in class, every one of his students had completed today’s goal: work on their high kicks and break their first board. Every one but his youngest, Fenice. He stood before him now in front stance, his cheeks wet and his eyes red-rimmed. This was his fifth time trying, and everyone was cheering, chanting his name, goading him on, encouraging him to try one more time.

Goku crouched down onto the blue mat, dressed in blue-teal gi and orange wristbands. The white sash tied around his waist matched the white stone that hung around his neck. He rested a hand onto his youngest student’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

“You can do it.” He leaned back to grab the board again, presenting it to him between both of his hands. “Concentrate, Fenice. You can do this.”

Around him, all the kids echoed his sentiments. “Go Fenice!” “Concentrate!” “You can do it!” “Kick it hard!” “Use the heel!” Until all the shouting turned into a chant of his name. “Fenice! Fenice! Fenice!”

His youngest student wiped at his face and Goku beamed when he focused his attention on the board, his hands turning into tight fists by his side. He lifted his heel up and kicked hard, almost cracking the board. The chants grew louder, and Goku shouted, “One more time! C’mon!” And on the second try, it happened, his heel drove straight through the board, and _all_ the kids jumped high and swarmed over, dogpiling on top of Fenice, laughing and hugging and screaming.

Goku stood up, weeding through his students to find a wide-eyed, big-grinned Fenice and he handed over the two boards to him. “I told ya! You can do anything you set your mind to!” He rubbed the top of Fenice’s head, ruffling his hair. “Well done!”

All the rest of his students continued to cheer and hug Fenice, some giving high fives, others patting or ruffling his hair too. Goku looked to the clock—exactly twelve on the dot—and he clapped a few times, shouting, “Okay kids, time’s up! Great job today everyone!”

He grinned when all of his students stopped what they were doing immediately and bowed deeply at the waist to him, shouting at once, “Thank you, Master Goku!”

Goku bowed in return, his hands falling to his hips as he watched his students scatter across the dojo floor. It surprised him how many signed up for his dojo when he opened it two months ago, especially since he wasn’t located too conveniently to West or East City where most of the students came from. He was happy when only three people signed up for his first classes. That was more than fine with him. He wasn’t doing this for the money whatsoever. He still had leftover zeni, even after building this place and sprucing up his capsule home. But word travelled fast and soon he had many parents and children signing up for his classes.

As Goku cleaned up the dojo, he watched the students and parents from afar with a wide grin. Some of the parents came up to students, hugging them, sharing congratulations, asking about what they learned today. Other parents scooped up their kids, putting them on their laps or their backs. The rest knelt down or stood in front of their children, talking with them like little adults. He watched them all filter out of the dojo, waving goodbye to them, until everyone left for the day.

On the opposite end of the room, he felt a familiar, warm ki enter, and Goku turned to it, his smile gaining a softer, sweeter edge.

Vegeta smiled back at him, dress in black sweatpants and a grey tank top, the purple stone resting against his sternum. He walked right up to Goku’s side. “On break, I assume.”

“Yup. Cleaned up everything too.” He leaned down to kiss Vegeta on the lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back, sending over the r’bhon’or feelings of affection. “I’m all yours.”

He felt feelings of affection returned, but there was something else too. Goku couldn’t figure out what. Vegeta was still better at Saiyan magic than himself and was able to isolate emotions from the bond now, which always annoyed Goku when that happened. But at least he could detect it when it happened at least.

“Bulma was wondering if you’d be up for lunch together,” Vegeta said.

“Really?”

Vegeta nodded. “All three of us.”

“I haven’t seen her in months.”

“I know.”

“Not ever since—”

“I know, Kakarot.” He took Goku’s hand in his, fingers twining together. “It’ll be fine.”

Goku shut his eyes. Feelings of reassurance, comfort and love from the r’bhon’or helped push back his doubt and his worry. He squeezed Vegeta’s hand before bringing it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Okay.”

He instant transmissioned them back to Capsule Corp, right to where Goku located Bulma’s ki. She sat at a round table outdoors on a patio, no Bulla or Trunks in sight. Dressed in her grey jumpsuit, she smiled at Goku when they materialized a few feet away from the table, then gestured to the smorgasbord of food on top.

“Dig in, you two,” she said.

Vegeta untangled his hand from Goku’s to come to Bulma’s side, planting a kiss to her cheek. He then took a seat beside her at the table, helping himself to some of the rice and meat there.

Goku lingered for a moment before he followed, taking a seat next to Vegeta, across from Bulma. His stomach growled, having been teaching for the last five hours, but he didn’t dig into the food with the same level of voracity as Vegeta. The last time he saw Bulma was the week things changed—when he moved out of his old home and asked Bulma for a temporary capsule house. She had given him a look then, one that Goku couldn’t pinpoint, but she handed over the capsule nonetheless. But that look was enough for Goku to stay away from her, until now.

He tuned out the conversation Bulma and Vegeta had with each other—something about their kids, a science project, some other sorts of things—and focused on the food instead. He dug into the meat, the vegetables, the musubi and whatnot, but he took his time chewing each bite. Part of him wanted to dive in and eat as fast as he could so he could get out of here sooner. But Vegeta would most likely say something to him later, and he didn’t want or need that. Plus, his stomach was in a thousand tight knots, so there was a chance he would throw up his food later if he ate too much.

What Bulma wanted him over for, he didn’t know. Why now? Why after three months? Was she mad over something? Did she not want him to see Vegeta anymore? He never had Vegeta stay over the night at his place, nor did he ever hog any time with the man. He scheduled out every date with him, making sure they would each spend enough time with their respective families. Even though Goten still resented him. Even though Gohan was still a little concerned and perplexed about his relationship. It was important though that Vegeta had his time with Bulma, Trunks and Bulla. That was important. He wasn’t going to ruin Vegeta’s life over this—

“Goku?”

He shook his head, pushing his thoughts away. Across the table, Bulma frowned at him, and he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry ‘bout that. Were you talking to me?”

Then she glared at him, and Goku wanted to sink into his chair, possibly even hide. “Hmph.” That glare directed itself to Vegeta, and he felt a little relieved it wasn’t on him anymore. “I told you,” she said.

“It’s fine, Bulma.”

“It’s not.”

“It is what it is.”

“And like I’ve told you, it doesn’t _have_ to be, you stubborn bastard.”

Vegeta glared right back at her. “I’m not changing a single thing.”

“But look at him!” Goku felt his cheeks burn and his body sag a little into the chair when Bulma pointed right at him. “He looks terrible!”

“Because of you.”

“What!?” Goku sunk even further into his chair as Bulma nearly stood out of her own chair to loom over Vegeta. “What did I do?!”

If it was any other situation, at any other time, Goku would’ve laughed at Vegeta slapping his palm to his forehead, followed by a muttering of “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Instead, Goku stayed quiet and absolutely still as Vegeta turned to him and said, “Can you please tell my urave that we’re perfectly happy with the way things are?”

Bulma then turned to him and said, “And can _you_ please tell my husband that _I’m_ not happy with how things are for _both_ of you?”

Vegeta growled, rubbing the side of his forehead. “Woman, I swear—”

“You haven’t spent enough time with him, Vegeta. Period. You’ve only had, what, maybe a few days at most together? Over the last three months? He’s supposed to be your may-kay—”

“Mah’kha.”

“—yeah, that, and Goku deserves better!” Bulma turned to Goku again, throwing her hands up in the air. “See?!”

“Because he’s _terrified,_ woman.”

“Why?!”

“If you’d let me talk—”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Me?!” Vegeta nearly jumped out of his seat. “I’ve done nothing to him!”

“And maybe that’s the problem, hmm??” She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows, and Goku’s fingers itched to press to his forehead when she said, “Maybe he needs a little lovin’—”

“WOMAN!”

“I’m just saying!”

“ _YOU—!_ ”

Goku coughed loud into his fist.

The sound stopped the two of them in their tracks, their attentions turning from each other right to him.

Despite the blush he knew was still visible on his face, Goku set his jaw and sat up straight in his chair, fixing his posture. He looked right at Bulma and saw no anger or frustration, only concern, and it eased away the confusion and doubt a bit.

“I don’t know what’s exactly going on here,” he said, “but I’m really glad you care about me, Bulma. I was afraid you hated me for what I’d done.”

Her blue eyes went wide. She shook her head no. “Goku, I’d never hate you.”

He shrugged, sending his attention to his near empty plate. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Why would you think I would? Is that why you’ve never come over the last three months?”

Goku nodded once.

“And why you don’t let Vegeta stay the night?”

He nodded again.

“I told you,” Vegeta said, “we’re fine with the way things are.”

“And I’m not.” He heard Bulma’s chair squeak and skip across the ground. In his purview, Goku saw Bulma place her chair next to his. He almost flinched when her hand rested over his, on his lap. “Goku, listen to me. We both love Vegeta. I’m grateful for the fact that you consider my feelings and thoughts a lot. But you deserve more time with him.”

Goku shook his head no. “It’s not right. We live longer—”

“I don’t give a shit about that. I give a shit about you spending time with him now, in your prime. I’ve had months to get used to this new routine. We all figured it out and everything came out more than okay. But I can see what you’re doing to yourself.” She squeezed his hand, leaning in. “You’re sacrificing yourself for someone else’s happiness again, and I’ll be damned if it’s for me.”

He shut his eyes, turning his head away from her. “Bulma—”

“I didn’t say anything then when Chichi showed up saying you promised to marry her as kids without knowing what that actually meant. I’m not going to stay quiet again.” Gentle, long-nailed fingers touched his chin, turning his head back to her direction. He still didn’t open his eyes. “You love him, as much as I do. Maybe even more. I don’t know, I don’t care. The point still stands. You’re sacrificing your happiness again because you think it’s the right thing.”

He jerked his chin out of her grip. “It is.”

“Then fuck the right thing. I know Vegeta hates seeing you unhappy, and guess what, Goku? So do I. If the right thing means you barely get to spend time with someone that’s practically your soulmate, then do the selfish thing, for once in your life, and go make yourself happy.”

Goku sighed. He opened his eyes, focusing them on Bulma’s hand on his, on his lap. “I’ve done enough damage—”

“You’ve done nothing. Nothing, Goku. If you’re going to blame yourself, then blame Vegeta too. You weren’t the only one in this.”

“She’s right,” Vegeta said, and he heard another chair scoot closer to his. Saw Vegeta’s gloved hand come into his vision and grasp his free hand, twining their fingers together. “You blame yourself, you blame me.”

“Vegeta—”

“Hi’nai, m’yo mah’kha.” He watched Vegeta’s hand squeeze his. Soft lips pressed to his cheek. Warm breath heated the skin, and Goku relaxed at the feelings of love and comfort coming over the r’bhon’or. “Listen to her and stop hurting yourself.”

Goku gave in with a soft sigh, leaning into Vegeta, resting the side of his head against the top of his. At the same time, he twined Bulma’s hand with his, squeezing her fingers—and he felt relief when she squeezed back, just as hard.

“Okay.” He turned his head to bury his face into Vegeta’s locks, his body shaking a little as he sighed one last time. “I’ll try.”

***

Adjusting the routine proved easier than Goku thought. Vegeta would spend a few nights with him, sometimes two or three full days, before going back to Capsule Corp. Bulma invited him over more often to spend time with their family and Goku accepted when he could.

It still felt weird being there, chatting with Bulma, talking about their kids, their jobs, and especially when they talked about Vegeta. That never failed to make him blush and stumble over his words. But it helped she seemed open about it, and pretty okay with it too. He never was the one to bring up Vegeta though. Bulma always did.

Running his own dojo for children proved a daunting task that took up most of Goku’s time, so it was more than okay that Vegeta wouldn’t be with him on those nights. He didn’t feel as guilty when he’d come home from a long day of work and just flop onto the bed exhausted. If Vegeta was around for those days, he’d have felt terrible not giving Vegeta enough time and attention.

There were times though where Vegeta showed up on those long evenings, and Goku would try to coax Vegeta to go home and spend it with Bulma instead. But Vegeta would kiss him quiet, drag him to bed and Goku would give in each time, easily finding sleep wrapped up in Vegeta’s arms and the cool bedsheets.

Eventually, Goten showed up one day to his dojo, with Trunks and Vegeta in tow. He sparred with each of them, letting Goten get his frustrations out on him. The whole day proved useful, and things gradually got better with Goten after that.

Again, life moved on.

***

_Three more months later…_

***

Goku had no idea what Vegeta had in store for them. All he knew was he had to put on his old Sadalan armor and meet Vegeta outside his capsule home at nine o’clock on the dot. He tried asking Vegeta for more information—why the Sadalan armor, what were they doing, where were they going—but Vegeta kissed him quiet and Goku squeaked in surprise, especially since Vegeta was kissing him during lunch at Capsule Corp and Bulma could’ve come in at any time and see them like that. Luckily, it didn’t happen, but it was enough for him to keep quiet and not ask anymore questions.

At nine, he felt Vegeta’s ki soaring over to him from West City. He smiled when Vegeta landed on his front yard, dressed his royal regalia, the red cape fluttering behind him. It was a full moon this night, with no cloud in the sky. All he saw behind Vegeta were endless stars and inky blackness, a sight that matched the man perfectly.

“No instant transmission?” Goku asked.

Vegeta shook his head no. “That’s still your technique.”

“I told you it’s not exclusive to me.”

“Don’t care.” He offered a gloved hand out to Goku. “Shall we?”

Goku closed the gap between them, placing his hand into Vegeta’s. He brought the knuckles to his lips before twining their fingers together.

He felt a little giddy flying in the air, holding Vegeta’s hand. The wind rippled his cape, pushed his hair around in a way that made Goku’s stomach flip. His hand felt warm and strong, and he couldn’t stop the blush, or the way his heart fluttered. Six months into being with Vegeta, and the man still made him feel like it was that first day all over again, the day Goku realized what being in love actually meant.

They flew north for a bit, crossing over lakes, streams, curved mountain tops and small towns. If he tried hard enough, Goku could’ve replaced the world below with the surface of Sadala at night, and he felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. Maybe someday soon, they’d return to Universe 6 and see everyone again. Maybe with their families in tow, if they wanted to come with.

Soon, they arrived at their destination, and Goku chuckled when he saw the wasteland below—the very first place he ever met and fought Vegeta. They descended together, landing on top of a boulder that was perfectly situated between the two pillars they each stood on years ago. Goku stared at each of them, how they were much smaller and more jagged than before. Residual cracks and craters scattered the whole land, remnants of the past, of their great fight, and he felt his blood boil as the memories hit him, one by one. Vegeta’s smirk. His power. The way he fought. His brilliance, his cunning, his tenacity. He drifted his attention to a corner, and Goku froze as the memory hit him.

 _Stop!_ The pain he felt then. The absolute agony. _Don’t do it!_ The last rush of adrenaline. The desperate need to have Krillin spare him. _Somewhere within my heart—_ to not kill him _—I was happy—_ to see him again— _and excited._ To fight him again. _Maybe it’s because I’m a Saiyan too._ To try again, one more time, and he did. _Whenever I see an amazing guy like that—_ he did see him again— _my heart leaps._ He did fight him again. _Please grant my selfish wish_. And he ended up becoming so much more. 

Goku smiled.

Beside him, Vegeta said, “Rada es.” _Come here._

He turned back to Vegeta and found him taking a step closer, their chests almost touching, their stones clinking lightly against each other. He let Vegeta hold one of his hands, while the other rested against the side of his hip.

“Put your other hand on my shoulder,” Vegeta said.

Goku complied, tilting his head to the side. “What’re you doing?”

“Dancing with my mate.”

His eyes blew wide open, his mouth parting. “B-But—” He took a step back. “Why?!”

“Can’t a prince dance with his consort under the full moon?”

“But I can’t dance! I don’t know anything about it!”

“The echu batwa is easy to learn.” Vegeta pressed against his lower back, closing the gap between them yet again. “You said I’m a great teacher, _k’ne_?”

Goku nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. He looked down at Vegeta’s hand on his, Vegeta’s arm, their feet—his own feet—and muttered, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Think of it as a kata. Flow with the movement. I’ll be guiding you the whole time.”

He bit his bottom lip before nodding again.

“Look at me,” Vegeta said and Goku listened, lifting his gaze back up to him.

His breath left him when he saw and felt his love and adoration, all for him, in his smile, through the r’bhon’or. The stars above them, the night sky surrounding them, the moonlight glistening around Vegeta, as if he could see his umoya in front of him.

Vegeta drifted the hand from his lower back to his face, cupping his cheek. He tilted his head down to nudge their noses together, their lips brushing softly.

“Ta’hi m’eh,” Vegeta whispered.

_Trust me._

Goku gave in with a gentle kiss and a soft whisper in return. “M’eh ta’hi au.”

_I trust you._

The dance wasn’t graceful at all. Goku felt Vegeta adjusting and pushing his body here and there, less of a guidance and more of an avoidance of stepping on toes or tripping over each other. But the more they danced, the more Goku found the rhythm in it, and he discovered Vegeta was right. It was like a kata. Fluidity, smooth transitions, syncing breath to movement, and he soon followed along with Vegeta, even closing his eyes to just be with the dance, to focus only on him and each other and nothing else, and it helped a lot.

He kept his eyes closed the rest of the time, thinking of his breath, thinking of Vegeta guiding him. Trusting Vegeta to lead the two of them in this dance, and he did. Vegeta knew exactly what he was doing, and it soon felt a little fun doing this, not as terrifying. He still felt awkward and a bit weird doing this dance, but it was nice. Intimate. It helped feeling Vegeta’s emotions over the r’bhon’or—his pride, his love and his admiration, all for him—and it gave Goku the confidence to keep going, to keep trying.

Eventually, the dance came to a stop, with Vegeta dipping Goku from the waist, and Goku found his balance by coming into a front stance, the hand on Vegeta’s shoulder sliding to the back of Vegeta’s neck out of instinct and a need to balance.

When he opened his eyes, he found Vegeta nose-to-nose with him with a sweet, small smile on his face. He breathed a little hard, an exertion from the dance most likely, a small amount of sweat gathered on his brow. Goku returned the look and leaned up to kiss Vegeta’s soft lips, a kiss that Vegeta responded to well.

Their lips made a soft _smack_ in the air. Goku heard Vegeta’s tempered breathing. Heard the wind blow around them. The sound of cicadas in the distance.

Then, Vegeta said, “Kuba nge m’eh.” _Be with me._

Goku chuckled. “I am with you.”

“It’s more than that.” Vegeta pulled him upright, still holding onto one hand, the other against his lower back. “It’s what a mate says to another when they’re ready.”

“For what?”

“For the t’sha’to phe’hi. The ritual of binding souls.”

Goku leaned back a little, his lips turning into a frown. It sounded familiar. Very familiar. It was said by someone, back on Sadala. Chikora said it. She said—

A gasp ripped out of him.

Vegeta nodded. His smile never left him. It only grew in size.

He felt every emotion from Vegeta. Affection. Need. Love—and his heart skipped when he felt a suppressed emotion, one Vegeta was clearly trying to hide from him. But Goku knew that emotion well.

Fear.

Vegeta was actually afraid.

Goku answered over the r’bhon’or, sending over feelings of love, need and comfort, as well as safety. He solidified them with a kiss, pulling his hands from Vegeta’s so he could wrap his arms around Vegeta’s neck.

When he pulled back, he gave those emotions a voice, with just a few words and hoped they were the right ones.

“M’eh nge au. N’jalo.” _I am with you. Always._

He laughed when Vegeta did, their foreheads pressing together as the mutual feelings of love and happiness ran through their r’bhon’or. Under the moonlight, they kissed again, and again, never letting go of their mate until the passion between them grew and Goku transmissioned them away from the wasteland where it all began, back to the safety and comfort of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE. MORE. PART. Major thanks to Baby Buu for input on the halfway mark of this part. I can't believe it's coming to an end. *insert keyboard smash here*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: 1/4/2021 -- I've split up Part 12 into two parts because I felt bad about how long it was, especially since I now added art into the story, which means the explicit smut is now in the second half of the fic. Sorry about that! Hope you still enjoy the story. 
> 
> Artist credit for the image embedded: JEM97 here on AO3! Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/_c_art_

_One year later…_

The answer arrived on a Monday. Whis delivered it personally to Vegeta in the middle of lunch with Goku and Bulma. He held in his gloved hands the scroll of parchment, preserved in place with a blood red wax seal, sporting the insignia of the House of Sadala. In some places, he recognized his own handwriting done in rich black pen, words like _t’sha’to_ and _ch’ue and mah’kha’or_ , done with impeccable penmanship, as immaculate as the King of Sadala’s.

He pushed a finger under the seal and the paper unfurled easily in front of him, landing right on the table.

His initial letter to King Sadala rested before him. Vegeta flipped it onto its back and saw a two-worded, one lined answer to his request, similar to the one he gave the King more than a year ago that fateful day.

 _Ku’jalo, ta’fr’utu._ Of course, fellow Saiyan, brother.

Goku chose that moment to peek over Vegeta’s shoulder. Unlike then, he didn’t ask ‘what,’ but a sharp, excited, “ _Sweet!_ ”

“Had you any doubt, Kakarot?”

“I know, but still!” He watched his mah’kha turn to his perplexed urave sitting across from them, his animated arms flailing all over the place. “They said yes, Bulma! It’s happening!”

“What is?”

“The t’sha’to phe’hi! The thing like marriage that isn’t marriage but it kinda is!”

He loved the look on her face—that beaming grin, her big blue eyes sparkling like water droplets. The elation in her shout of, “That’s great, Goku!”

“The crown princess also asked me to give you this,” Whis said, handing over to Goku a thin blue book with gold trimmings. “It apparently has all the details you will need for this event.”

“If there isn’t food, I’m not going,” Beerus muttered in between chews of dark chocolate mousse.

Goku took the book from Whis, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Even if there isn’t, I’ll make sure there is! Did they say when we have to be there by?”

Whis nodded. “About twenty-four hours from now, I believe.”

As one, both Bulma and Goku shouted on top of their lungs, “WHAT?!” Their voices soon overlapped each other. “I have to test out three students tomorrow!” “I have a massive project due tomorrow!” “I can’t disappoint them, they’ve trained so hard!” “I don’t have anyone who could finish this for me, no one’s as good as me, dammit!” “Oh man the kids are going to be so disappointed.” “Oh God I’m going to lose this contract.” “Maybe Piccolo can do it?” “Maybe dad can do it?” “He could bring Pan if Gohan and Videl are okay with it!” “Maybe if I leave him notes he can figure out the rest of it.” “What if he’s not interested?” “What if he’s too busy?” “Oh _man—!_ ” “ _UGH—!_ ”

His loud cough stopped the two of them dead.

They turned to him at the end of the table, where Vegeta simply opened the book to the first page, slid it over to Goku and said, “Kakarot, start interpreting.” Then turned to Bulma and said, “Bulma, write down everything he says.” Finally, he turned to Whis, who gave him an amused look, his lips curled into a smile around a spoonful of pudding he was halfway through. “Whis, please tell the King later we will be there in time.”

Whis chuckled, popping the spoon out of his mouth. He nodded to him. “As you wish, Prince Vegeta.”

When he turned back to Bulma and Goku, they shouted as one: “BUT—!”

“Woman, your father built this company, he can finish a measly project, no matter how complicated, and Kakarot, if the Namekian won’t do it, someone else will, because they all quite frankly owe you. Now, get to work, you two. And Lord Beerus—” He turned to the God of Destruction and said, “Eat as much food as you’d like, for as long as you wish, until whatever inconvenience or annoyance my mah’kha and urave have brought upon you is rectified.”

Beerus smirked. “Well well.” He pointed his chocolate-covered spoon at Vegeta. “Clearly someone learned lessons in respect from the King of Sadala.”

Vegeta smirked back before returning his attention to Bulma and Goku, who acted upon his words and were now working together. Goku read aloud from the thin book, prattling off everything about the event—who from each family could attend, what the attire was, what the series of events were—while Bulma scribbled everything down on her personal tablet, writing frantically with her stylus pen.

He took a sip from his cup of coffee and looked above, out into the distance of the Earth’s blue sky, the white clouds, and he grinned from ear-to-ear.

Twenty-four hours was more than enough time to prepare for their trip. Piccolo answered Goku’s call without protest. Videl and Gohan agreed to come, which Vegeta knew surprised Goku. He felt it over the r’bhon’or, as well as his relief. Of his mate’s two children, Goten eventually moved on, while Gohan never outwardly rejected their relationship, but never fully accepted it either. Goten’s outward anger, frustration and hurt was much more palpable for Vegeta to understand. It was a more Saiyan response, one full of passion and emotion. A complete contrast to Gohan’s simmering, unaddressed resentment and cold aloofness. The eldest son never treated him badly, nor did he say anything bad about him either in private. But it was so obvious Gohan wasn’t okay with the arrangement, and it annoyed Vegeta to hell. He would’ve preferred Gohan addressing his issues head on versus burying them deep inside. But something had changed in Gohan since the last time Vegeta saw the man, and now he seemed relaxed and genuinely okay with everything—to the point where he truly _did_ want to come to Planet Sadala with his wife and his daughter. At least that was a point of grief Vegeta didn’t have to worry about anymore.

Of course Trunks and Goten were excited beyond words about the trip. The two spent every waking moment bothering each of their fathers, asking a million questions. Simple questions at first: what Sadala was like, what this event entailed, what was the palace like, what was the royal family like. Then came the silly, stupid questions: did they have to do their homework out there, could they bring their video games, does the palace have wifi—and the last question nearly made Vegeta power up to Super Saiyan God so he could slap both children stupid—who of the two of them had to wear a dress. Luckily Bulma reprimanded and corrected both of them before Vegeta did anything he’d regret later.

According to the book Chikora gave them, only the immediate family of each mah’kha could attend the t’sha’to phe’hi, something Vegeta knew disappointed his mate. He not only could feel his disappointment over the r’bhon’or, but knew that Goku wanted Broly, Broly’s friends, and his own lifelong friends there for this event that he still considered ‘a wedding,’ when it really wasn’t per say. So Vegeta encouraged him to go to each his friends to tell them the news and to express his wish that they could come, something that he knew would please Goku. And it did. Yes, it left most of the packing to Vegeta, where he not only had to make sure he had everything he needed for the trip, but he also had to go over to Goku’s home and pack for him, but it was okay if it meant his mate would feel better.

On the eve of their departure, Vegeta made Goku stay the night at Capsule Corp, as they would all depart in the morning together with Whis and Beerus, and both he and Bulma knew the man had a tendency to be late. Bulma offered to let Goku sleep with Vegeta in the guest room, but Goku refused, much to no one’s surprise. They were coming up on two years, and still, Goku felt like an imposter. Vegeta figured he probably always would be, no matter how many times Bulma said it was okay, or how many sweet, loving feelings and words Vegeta sent over the r’bhon’or. Goku had improved to the point where he had lunches and dinners with them, would spar with him, Goten and Trunks on the island Bulma bought, even joined them on family outings, but he still put enough space between what he considered Vegeta’s home and his own home. He’d never stay the night, no matter how much Bulma insisted it was fine. He’d still keep some distance.

All of that was still favorable compared to the only piece of grief left in his Goku’s life. Chichi never came on any of those family outings. She never showed up to Capsule Corp or the island or anywhere, opting to have Goten fly home to her instead. She didn’t do anything hostile towards Goku, or himself. Didn’t say a bad word to Goten or Gohan, didn’t act rude or mean when they did see each other on those rare occasions, didn’t do anything that tipped Vegeta off that she was a woman scorned. If anything, she acted almost a little like himself—controlled, emotionless and perfectly poised. Like the princess she supposedly was. He knew her actions unnerved Goku. He could feel it every time the man met his would-be urave, and Vegeta would be on guard, ready and waiting to intervene if needed to defend and protect him. But he never had to. Chichi was always on her best behavior, acting the way a woman of royalty would, with a fondness that spoke to years once spent intimately together. All nuances Vegeta knew his mate missed, but Vegeta didn’t. Still. She gave his Goku grief by not actually accepting the title, the importance and the meaning of the ‘urave,’ and that was all Vegeta needed to resent her, just a little bit.

She was the last piece of unfinished business before they left for Planet Sadala the next day. Vegeta knew Goku asked Gohan to tell Chichi about this, since he didn’t feel comfortable to tell her himself. Goten even said he told his mother too, and when asked what her response was, he shrugged and said no idea. Chichi said nothing. Nothing positive, nor negative. She only said, ‘okay,’ and both sons just left it at that, which only served to up Goku’s nerves considerably. Nothing Vegeta sent over the r’bhon’or helped. He was still a ball of nerves leading up to sleep, and he refused to let Vegeta spend the night with him, so there was nothing Vegeta could do except lay in bed next to Bulma and continuously send over feelings of comfort, love and affection over the r’bhon’or.

The morning of, Goku looked terrible. Exhaustion radiated off him, and over the r’bhon’or, Vegeta felt his worry. He tried pulling Goku to the side to chat with him, maybe even offer him physical affection, but the man refused, opting instead to dive into mountains of food and—much to Vegeta’s chagrin—shut down his side of the r’bhon’or. If there was one thing he wished in that moment he didn’t teach Goku, it was that. Again, he could do nothing but sit there and eat beside him, while Bulma fed their children and double checked that all their bags were packed and nothing was left behind.

By the time breakfast was done, Gohan and his family arrived, ready to go. Bulma chatted with him in the living room while Vegeta grabbed Goku’s wrist in the kitchen and glared at him. Of course, Goku tried to jerk his arm away, but Vegeta held on firm, and he pushed at the so-called ‘closed gate’ deep inside his mind, what he imagined and felt every time Goku shut down the r’bhon’or between them. Goku glared back, and Vegeta pushed at the ‘gate’ again, squeezing firm on his wrist.

“I’m fine,” Goku snapped.

“Fr’jho’ir.” _Liar._

“Just drop it.”

“H’na.” _No._ “H’yi’ni t’au n’je’le.” _Not when you’re like this._

Goku sighed. “Vegeta, please. It’s our wedding day—”

“Not the same thing.”

“Whatever. Point still stands.”

“T’au k’in’lugu.” _You’re in pain._

“Of course I am. But it doesn’t matter—”

“Iya.” _It does._ He lifted Goku’s knuckles to his lips, whispering over them, “Au m’ba.” _You matter._ He kissed them without looking away.

Goku’s smile happened in time with the r’bhon’or re-opening. Feelings of doubt, sadness and anguish filtered through, as did excitement and fear. Vegeta kissed his knuckles again, closing his eyes that time as he sent over all of the love he felt inside for this man, his mah’kha, and he felt those same feelings return in full force, drowning out the rest of those ugly emotions inside.

He let Goku pull his hand out of his so he could wrap his arms around his waist. Soft lips kissed his forehead, followed by the tip of his nose rubbing over the skin. Vegeta smiled, his arms wrapping around Goku’s neck as Goku kissed his forehead again, and again. More feelings of love resonated over the r’bhon’or. Affection, lust, excitement—and there it came. The sadness. Doubt.

Vegeta let Goku tuck him under his chin, let him bury his face into his scalp. He scratched the back of Goku’s scalp, turning his head a little to bury his face into his shoulder. Hot breath tickled his scalp. Soothing warmth, an all-encompassing blanket, the same way he knew Goku felt about his own umoya.

Against his scalp, he heard Goku murmur, “I know she doesn’t need to be there. I know this. Her not showing up doesn’t mean we can’t have the thing. But—”

“You still wish she would.”

“Aiii.” _Yes._

He leaned back to kiss the side of Goku’s cheek. “Mah’ni, Kakarot.”

One last squeeze to his body and Goku pulled away from their embrace. Vegeta followed suit, his arms sliding down and away from Goku, but Goku caught his hands before they left. He kissed both of the knuckles, one then the other, before saying, “I should go get ready.” He stepped back, releasing Vegeta’s hands, to gesture at his pajamas: dark blue sleeping pants and white tank top. “No way am I showing up to the palace wearing this.”

Vegeta chuckled. “As should I.” He reached up to stroke the side of Goku’s cheek with his thumb. “M’eh tsha au, Kakarot.” _I love you, Kakarot._

His mate smiled like the sun. “M’eh t’sha au’naye.” _I love you too._

By the time Whis and Beerus arrived, everyone was ready and prepared to leave. Vegeta emerged from Capsule Corp first, dressed in his full royal regalia, his red cape fluttering behind him, the purple amulet around his neck sparkling under the sunlight. From afar, he saw his family already waiting for him inside the cube. Piles of luggage took up one whole corner of the cube’s interior. He smiled at Trunks’s and Bulla’s wide-eyed expressions, chuckled at Bulma’s appreciative leer, nodded to Gohan who held a happy Pan on his hip, and then nodded to Videl, who bowed a little at the waist to him in return. It didn’t surprise him to see only Goten there in the cube. When the child arrived, he didn’t know, but at least his mother allowed him to go, much to Vegeta’s relief. 

He sensed Goku’s ki behind him and he turned around to watch his mah’kha exit Capsule Corp, dressed in the Sadalan armor that never failed to take Vegeta’s breath away. The gold straps shined in the light, just like the white stone that hung around his neck. Goku strode up to him in a way that reminded him of his own self: proud, poised, full of confidence. He even felt that confidence over the r’bhon’or, the determination and the conviction, the certainty that this was right, that he was ready—and Vegeta couldn’t stop himself from walking to his mah’kha, cup his cheeks in his gloved hands and kiss him right on the lips, in front of everyone, something he knew they never did before in their time together. But damned if he wasn’t going to thank Goku for this, for not only going through with the t’sha’to phe’hi, but to do it despite the sadness Vegeta knew the man still harbored because of Chichi. He anticipated Goku’s surprise, his possible rejection, a push away or a step back, but Goku did none of that. He met his kiss and responded in kind, cupping his own palms to Vegeta’s face and pressing back into their closed-lipped kiss. The determination never wavered, nor did the certainty. The r’bhon’or was fully open to him, and he could feel the slight regret there, but it was overshadowed by affection, love, passion, for him, excitement, joy, anticipation, and Vegeta returned those feelings back ten-fold as he pulled back from their kiss to nudge Goku’s nose with his. 

“Yi’esha,” he said. _It is time._

Goku nodded. He stepped away but slipped his hand into Vegeta’s, twining their fingers together.

Vegeta smiled, squeezing their clasped hands.

They walked side by side, palm pressed to palm, as they headed to the cube, where their families, Whis and Beerus waited for them. Not one of them possessed a disgusted, disturbed or annoyed look. Not a single one. Not even Beerus, though Vegeta could see he was looking a bit impatient, which wasn’t surprising in the least.

Halfway up the ramp, Goku paused. He turned to the left, staring out into the distance. Vegeta followed suit, and he caught a familiar ki rapidly closing in on them. A ki he didn’t expect to show at all and was more than fine with it never appearing. But now that it was coming, Vegeta steeled himself, taking one step forward to put Goku behind him a little bit without unlocking their hands.

A gentle hand stopped him from raising his ki. He looked beside him and saw Goku’s soft smile—a disbelieving, elated smile—and soon, the _whoosh_ of a hover car zoomed past, followed by the _hiss_ and _wrr_ of it coming to a full stop in front of the cube.

Then came her voice. “Wait! Don’t go yet!”

Goten shouted from inside the cube, “Mom! You’re here! You made it!”

Chichi scrambled out of the car, a suitcase in hand, her hair not in its usual bun but a messy ponytail, her clothes disheveled and wrinkled. She ran up the ramp, stopping when she stood in front of the two of them.

Goku turned to her but didn’t let go of their twined hands. “Chichi…” He glanced at her bag, looked her up and down, shook his head, and Vegeta heard the emotion in his voice, felt the disbelief and the elation in the r’bhon’or. “You’re coming with us.”

She smiled and said, “I’m your ooh-rah-vee, aren’t I?”

Vegeta didn’t bother holding himself back from correcting her. “Urave.”

That smile of hers died off, her jaw setting firm as she glared at him for a brief moment, and he wholly anticipated her screaming and yelling, ready to smack her down verbally. But that anger disappeared, leaving only a seasoned princess’s cold, emotionless demeanor when she said, “And you’re his mah’kha.”

Vegeta sneered. He looked away. “Hn.”

“You said that perfectly,” Goku said, turning more towards Chichi, but he still didn’t let go of their hands. “Thank you.”

He heard her lips kiss his cheek, followed by her heels clicking up the ramp. Vegeta caught her gaze in his purview, and he briefly nodded to her, while squeezing Goku’s hand in his at the same time. She merely nodded back and turned her attention away, entering the cube and coming right to Goten’s side.

Whis looked positively amused once he and Goku entered the cube. “Anymore surprise guests incoming?”

“Nope!” Goku said. “We can go now.”

“About time,” Beerus snapped. “I’m bored with all of this. Let’s go already, Whis.”

“As you wish, m’lord.”

With a tap of Whis’s staff, the cube blasted away from the Earth, leaving the ground, the city and its atmosphere entirely. It soon entered the familiar portal of blue-violet light, enclosing around them all. He didn’t let go of Goku’s hand until no remnants of Universe 7 could be seen anymore.

The three-hour ride was as noisy as the first time they went. Time dragged on, but it didn’t feel as laborious as the last time. This time was very different. He enjoyed hearing Goku’s constant chatter and incessant amount of questions and answers. He enjoyed hearing him teach some Sadalan words, customs and phrases to Goten and Trunks. Positively beamed hearing Bulma repeat some of those words with immaculate precision. Treasured hearing Pan and Bulla playing together while Videl and Chichi watched on. Occasionally, Beerus sneered at them all, but his urave, as usual, was well prepared, and out popped many sweets and delicacies that soothed Beerus’s anger no problem. Vegeta observed them all from afar, listening and watching on the guise of choosing to meditate, but he knew Goku knew it was a rouse. Luckily, his mah’kha didn’t out him or tip anyone off to his true intentions. His mah’kha only sent over feelings of affection and comfort over the r’bhon’or, and Vegeta returned the same in kind.

As they came to the last hour of their journey, his mind wandered to the past. Images of his father, King Vegeta. Images of his mother, Queen Cassava. Images of Planet Vegeta’s reddish-orange sky at sunset, all the massive feasts, all the adrenaline-filled fights. Images of Planet Sadala’s inky black sky at night, the meadows, the yokuthensai, Kohltavi’s ethereal temple, the peaceful gardens and the ambuwa gumisou. Images of Goku’s smile, Goku practicing Sadalan in the yokuthensai, Goku bathed in the white light of Saiyan memories, Goku crying in the wasteland, Goku burying himself into his chest, Goku’s parted lips and sharp gasp, Goku’s beautiful hitched moan, Goku’s shining eyes in the sunlight, Goku’s soft whisper of his name as he reached for him—

Feelings of desperation seeped in from the r’bhon’or. Desperation, a need to stop, a plea.

Vegeta caught Goku’s glare in his purview, as well as his flushed face and a small tremble throughout his body.

Annoyance. Frustration. Lust. Goku gave him a wry smile, and then came the affection and amusement. Still annoyed, yes, but amused.

Vegeta chuckled and sent over feelings of apology, of love and of admiration, and because he couldn’t help himself—feelings of passion and lust.

He smirked at Goku’s red blush and slowly shut down the r’bhon’or for the rest of their trip. Sometimes his mind got the best of him and he’d send over the r’bhon’or the images in his head and his feelings at the same time. Vegeta wasn’t at the point yet of sending over actual verbal thoughts, but he hoped soon it would come. There was much he wished his thoughts could convey that verbally he wouldn’t.

Twenty minutes later, Whis announced: “We’re here.”

Vegeta opened his eyes as the blue-violet portal dissipated, and he grinned wide when he saw the light of the golden planet before them.

Planet Sadala. As beautiful as the day they left.

The planet grew in size as they zoomed closer to it. Goten and Trunks’s voices overlapped each other. “Wow!” “So cool!” “Is that Planet Sadala?” “It’s so pretty!”

As they breeched the atmosphere, he felt Goku come to his side. Bulma flanked the other. Below them, rocks upon rocks of different shapes and sizes formed domed homes and clay adobes. High mountains gathered snow at its peak. Empty fields of soil and dirt appeared alongside the occasional, bountiful bursts of green. And there was one universal constant that choked Vegeta up as much as it did the first time he arrived: thousands upon thousands of Saiyans, alive and well, performing whatever duty they needed. Working in fields, transporting goods, butchering meat, selling in market bazaars, sparring inside chalk-lined rings, bartering and trading for goods. All different shapes and sizes of Saiyan, everywhere, prosperous, living.

He felt Goku’s hand touch his, and he instantly twined their fingers together, palm meeting palm. Below them, a few Saiyans looked up at their vehicle, pausing in their work as they casted a heavy shadow on the land. Vegeta met each and every gaze of the Saiyans below, all dressed in either Sadalan armor or Sadalan clothing, and unlike then, the sight brought him joy, not grief. At least in one universe, his people survived and prospered.

Beside him, he heard Bulma whisper in awe, “Oh my God.”

He heard the same in the sharp, short gasps from his children, Goku’s children. Chichi was the next to whisper, “Is that the palace?”

Vegeta nodded as the heart of the kingdom came closer and closer to them. “Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” Bulma said. She leaned against him, wrapping her arm around his, and he leaned a little into her as she did. “Is it similar to yours?”

He looked at the long spires reaching for the sky, twisting and turning, each one varying in height and width. The stained glass windows, depicting famous heroes of lore and the gods and goddess of Sadalan faith, glittered colors like a kaleidoscope.

Blue sky. Saiyans everywhere. A shining beacon of strength and honor, the beating heart of the planet. Just like his own, once upon a time.

Vegeta smiled. “It’s exactly the same.”

Two rows of soldiers lined the pathway they landed on, leading out towards the palace’s gigantic double doors. Two soldiers stood in front of those doors, arms crossed in an X, each holding daggers in their hands, heads covered in large helmets with rows of spikes lining the head. All were dressed in white and gold Sadalan armor, ornate swords latched to their hips, with two equally ornate spears secured onto their backs.

The cube landed without a sound. Once the door materialized before them, Vegeta exited first, followed by Goku. Bulma and Chichi each held Trunks and Goten back from rushing out. Gohan stood by their sides with his own family.

Vegeta came to a stop a few feet before the Royal Guard, the first and last line of defense for the royal family, consisting of the best that their planet had offered. When Goku stood beside him, he cleared his throat, took a deep breath, hoped his accent and pronounciations were still acceptable and shouted:

“M’eh Vegeta, ve’osa ve’ho’ti kosana’or inplathi Vegeta!” _I am prince Vegeta, crown prince of the planet Vegeta!_

He paused when he heard Goku shout beside him, “Ni’m’eh Kakarot, mah’kha ve’osa ve’ho’ti ke’sana’or inplathi Vegeta!” _And I am Kakarot, mate to the crown prince of the planet Vegeta!_

Vegeta smiled, shooting over the r’bhon’or feelings of thanks and pride, as he pushed a fist over his clan symbol. “M’ehu kangela abapulhini omkul Ve’ho Sadala!” _We seek an audience with the great King Sadala!_

He heard a fist slam over metal beside him. Goku shouted, “Uzko du Soli!”

Vegeta bowed his head as he shouted, “Tor vuma uthi’ho!”

As he knelt down to one knee, he heard Goku shift beside him. In his purview, he caught Goku mimicking his exact stance, and he grinned at the sight for a brief moment.

As one, they shouted: “V’ila ko’shi Ve’ho!”

The _snickt_ sound of swords unsheating, the clang of metal tips meeting in the air. The Royal Guard replied as one too: “Vi’la ko’shi Ve’ho!” Long live the King.

Vegeta stayed in place as he heard the palace doors creak open, didn’t move as he heard Trunks and Goten mutter aloud behind them—“is that the King?” “is that him?” “Goten, he looks—” “—like your dad!”—and he chuckled at the sound of Bulma and Chichi’s shushing. He even heard Goku chuckle beside him, felt it over the r’bhon’or.

Clicks of sharp heels on pavement. Clicks that came closer and closer, increasing in volume, until those clicks stopped and the tips of two white boots appeared in Vegeta’s vision.

The sharp sound of swords returning to their sheaths cut through the silence.

Rustling of clothes. He could feel the body before him crouching down.

A gloved hand thrusted itself into his line of sight. “Vu tu’eyakho, Saiyan.” _On your feet, Saiyan._ From his purview, he caught the other reaching towards Goku. “Au’naye.” _You too._ “Yi li a’ri inda ch’ue.” _This is no place for family._

Vegeta pulled his hand away from his breast plate to clasp the King of Sadala’s outstretched hand, allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet by him. He felt Goku do the same beside him.

Once they were at eye-level, holding onto their mutual grip, the King smiled at him. “Ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” He turned to Goku beside him. “Kakarot.” He squeezed both of their hands as he whispered, “Wakale pu’e.” _Welcome home._

Beside him, Goku said, “D’in m’yo, Ve’ho Sadala.”

Vegeta parroted him, saying, “D’in m’yo.”

The King nodded to each of them before releasing his grip. He then leaned to the side, looking over Vegeta’s shoulder and waved over their families. “And a fine hello to you all as well! Welcome to Planet Sadala.”

He sensed both Goten and Trunks’s ki zooming over, stopping in front of each of their respective fathers. They looked up, all wide eyes and wide smiles, and babbled without pause for breath: “Thanks sir!” “You look really cool!” “Are you related to my dad?” “You look so much like Mr. Vegeta!” “Are you as strong as him?” “Yeah, are you?”

“Children, please,” Goku said, touching both of their shoulders. He crouched down to their levels, meeting their lines of sight. “What did I say to you both about minding your manners?”

“Oh!” They shouted in unison, equally red blushes appearing across their cheeks. They then turned back to the King, bowing at the waist and saying, “We’re sorry, your majesty!”

The King chuckled. “Just like my boys.” He turned towards the slightly opened large double doors and shouted, “Alright you two, I know you’re there! You can come out now!”

Two blurs zoomed out and past the King, slamming themselves right against Goku. They latched their arms around each side of his neck, pressing each of their cheeks to his and spoke in rapidfire Sadalan. “Goku!” “You’re back!” “We missed you!” “We’ve been training super hard!” “We’ve been studying hard too!” “Train us again before you leave!” “Teach us fusion before you go too!” “Yeah, teach us!” “Please teach us!”

Goku gathered up each prince in his arms, hugging them tight. “M’eh kupho’i au’naye!” _I missed you too!_ He lowered them down to the ground. “I can’t just yet, since we have that ceremony later today. But—” He gestured to Goten and Trunks. “—our sons would happily take on the challenge.”

The twin princes, Baternat and Courget, grinned, shouting, “Aiii, Master Goku!” They then turned to Goten and Trunks, offering their hands out. “T’eh!”

Vegeta smiled as Goten and Trunks shook their hands, saying in return “t’eh!” He caught Goku’s big smile as well, watching the two boys interact.

“M’eh Baternat,” the eldest twin said. _I’m Baternat._

“Ni’m’eh Courget,” the other said. _And I’m Courget._

Trunks pointed to himself. “M’eh Trunks—” _I’m Trunks._ He thumbed over his shoulder to Goten. “Ni’yi le Goten.” _And this is Goten._

The twins said in unison, “Au’hi ndi’fa’u spar?” _You two want to spar?_

Vegeta thought he’d have to interpret for them, up until the word spar. He and Goku both had taught their sons elementary Sadalan over the last year, but the twins spoke Sadalan so fast that there was a chance Trunks and Goten would miss some of what they said. But he didn’t get the chance to speak. Trunks shouted in their language “hell yes!” while Goten shouted “yes please!” And the four of them became a blur, zooming back into the palace, through the open large double doors.

The King chuckled as they left. “Soli help anyone who gets in their way.” He returned his attention back to Goku and Vegeta. “Chikora is waiting for us. She’s been setting up the ceremony alongside Lady Kohltavi.”

“Perfect.” Vegeta glanced behind him and saw his and Goku’s families waiting for them at the base of the ramp. He gestured Bulma forward and she walked to him with a sleeping Bulla on her hip. Once she stood by his side, he placed a hand onto her lower back and said, “May I introduce my urave and my ve’ho’tah, Bulma and Bulla.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Bulma said. “Your home is gorgeous.”

The King took her free hand in his, kissing the knuckles. “As are you,” he said, letting her hand go.

Vegeta chuckled at the flushed look on Bulma’s face. She cleared her throat before replying, “Um, thank you, your majesty.”

He smirked at Vegeta. “Bo’et na’uch, Vegeta. T’cha’ir n’sik au’ka’le.” _They’re beautiful, Vegeta. The goddesses have blessed you well._

“Aiii, bo’ne.” _Yes, they have._

He felt Gohan, Videl and Pan’s ki on the other side of Goku. The King turned to his mate and Goku said, “This is my eldest, Gohan, his wife Videl, and my granddaughter, Pan.”

“Hello, your majesty,” Gohan said, giving him a curt nod.

“Thank you for allowing us into your home,” Videl said, bowing at the waist to him.

“I should be thanking you for traveling such a long way,” the King said, taking one of Videl’s hands into his as he did Bulma’s, kissing the knuckles. “I appreciate it beyond words, as I’m sure Goku does too.”

Videl grinned. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The King eyed Gohan for a moment—Vegeta saw his lips turn into a very minor frown—and then returned his attention back to Goku. “And where is your urave?”

“Right here,” Chichi spoke up from behind. Goku turned around first, followed by Vegeta, and he frowned when he saw her standing there, almost smack dab in the middle of the two of them. No anger on her face. No sadness. Stoic, emotionless, like a good princess would be, and Vegeta realized then the frustration he felt in this moment must’ve been the same thing Bulma and Goku dealt with too. “I am Princess Chichi of Fire Mountain.”

“A princess?” The King smirked at Goku. “It seems you have quite refined tastes.”

Goku scratched the back of his head, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Ah, well…”

“I tease, I tease.” The King stepped forward and Goku scooted to the side to let him pass by. Vegeta watched him take Chichi’s hand in his, kissing to knuckles. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, princess.”

When he let go of her hand, Chichi curtseyed and said, “The honor is all mine, King Sadala.”

He leaned to the side to look over Chichi’s shoulder. “And will you be attending as well, Lord Beerus?”

Beerus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “If there’s food, yes. If there isn’t, no.”

“I promise there will be—” He walked past Chichi to the god and the angel, falling to one knee before them. “—but if you are hungry now, I invite you to partake in anything you wish. Our chefs will feed you the finest of delicacies, as much as you want.”

A quaint smile appeared on Beerus’s face. He turned to Whis. “That does sound promising.”

“We are quite peckish after our travels,” Whis said.

“Then please, allow me to serve you two well.” The King came to his feet and twisted on a heel to shout at the Royal Guard. “Cabba! Endiv!” Two soldiers broke ranks to stand before him, saluting him once they did. “Take our esteemed guests to my personal royal quarters and alert the chefs to prepare the best dishes we have on Planet Sadala.”

In unison, they shouted, “Aiii, m’yo ve’ho!” _Yes, my King!_

As the soldiers lead Beerus and Whis off in another direction of the palace, The King addressed the entire group with a smile. “Now that these pleasantries are out of the way, shall we head to the ceremony location?”

Vegeta spoke for them all, gesturing to the double doors. “Lead the way, m’yo Ve’ho.”

He waited until the King was a few feet ahead of them all before Vegeta lead everyone forward inside. He made a point to hold Goku’s hand while looking right at Chichi, before turning his attention ahead, his free hand staying on the small of Bulma’s back. Over the r’bhon’or, he felt Goku’s reassurance, as well as admonishment, but he focused on the former and not the latter as they passed through the doors and entered the massive hallway.

Everything felt familiar. All the beautifully designed stained glass windows, the soldiers and servants who greeted them with nods as they passed by, the framed pictures of Saiyans in warlike poses, the many candles and torches lining the walls, the open windows that brought in the sights and sounds and smells of the yokuthensai. Vegeta knew this, knew everything, and he knew Goku felt the same too.

A few more corners made, a few more hallways walked down, and they soon came to a set of wide golden double doors that was already open, guards flanking each side. They saluted the King as he walked past, nodding to each of them. Vegeta repeated the gesture, and he smiled when he noticed Goku doing the same.

This was a room he didn’t remember. Probably never visited. It was sparce of furniture, the walls bare, with only two closed doors on opposite sides of the room. What they lead out to, Vegeta had no idea. But what laid before him—that sight was familiar. Very familiar. Though he only saw it from the bottom of the palace grounds, rather than at this level.

Four female servants puttered around the royal balcony, placing candles, lanterns, floral arrangements and other accessories throughout. In the center of this small amount of chaos was a familiar sight: the golden altar from Kohltavi’s temple. It was at that altar that he saw two familiar faces knee-deep in conversation: Princess Chikora, holding an open book with one hand, the other a pen, and Lady Kohltavi, standing across from her with her hands on her hips.

The King stopped a foot away from the altar. “Ko’sh’ii,” he said, stepping to the side to gesture to all of them behind him. “I brought our esteemed guests.”

Chikora’s eyes blew wide open when they met gazes. She dropped her items onto the altar and rushed forward, her jewelry twinkling and her heels clicking on the stone floor. “Goku! Prince Vegeta!”

“Chikora!” Goku shouted, flinging his arms around her when she came forward.

She returned the gesture, laughing when Goku spun her around in a circle, her legs flying in the air. Goku then settled her down back to the ground, and it was then that Vegeta saw her wide grin and closed eyes peeking over Goku’s broad shoulder. “Uzko du Soli that you two made it safe and sound,” she said.

Goku pulled back to look her in the eye. “M’eh kupho’i au.” _I missed you._

She nodded. “M’eh kupho’i au’naye.” _I missed you too._ She stepped away from Goku to then give the same hug to Vegeta in return. “Au n’jego, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” _You as well, Prince Vegeta._

Vegeta hesitated for a moment before giving in, his hug much less intense than Goku’s. “Tor vuma uthi’ho.”

Chikora gave him one last squeeze then let him go, stepping back to give them both some space. “A fine congratulations to you both. How amazing is it to see each other again under such circumstances.”

“Indeed, princess,” Kohltavi said, coming up to Chikora’s side. She nodded to Vegeta first—a gesture he responded to in kind—then turned to Goku, looking him up and down. Then she smirked. “Much has changed since I last saw you, _k’ne_ , Kakarot?”

Vegeta snickered at the wide-eyed expression Kohltavi sported when Goku flung his arms around her and picked her up as he did Chikora, swinging her around like a rag doll, before gently bringing her back to her feet. He didn’t let go though. Goku lingered, giving her a hug that Vegeta thought would break her by the way he was digging his fingers into her shoulders, but she seemed to not grunt or wince in pain.

Against her shoulder, Goku whispered, “D’in m’yo ngo wezna oku’ti.” _Thank you for doing this for us_. He gave her one last squeeze—which then Vegeta heard a small grunt of pain—and pulled away, only to kiss Kohltavi on the cheek and say, “M’eh kupho’i au’naye.” _I missed you too._

Kohltavi nodded to him, though Vegeta saw how she suppressed the emotion on her face and in her voice with her usual rough demeanor. “Of course I’d do this. Only the high priestess of all Sadala can oversee a royal t’sha’to phe’hi.” She nodded to him. “Good to see you as well, Prince Vegeta.”

He nodded back. “Lady Kohltavi.”

“Have you two gone over what is expected from each of you?”

“Aiii!” Goku said, almost bouncing in place.

Vegeta chuckled at his mate’s antics before adding, “We have.”

“Excellent.” Kohltavi gestured to their family waiting behind them. “Then present to me your urave, Prince Vegeta.”

He barely had to turn around before Bulma marched right to his side, one hand resting against Bulla’s sleeping back. “I am her.”

A tense minute passed as he watched Kohltavi measure Bulma, her old eyes scanning her. With his growing sensitivity to umoya, he could feel a disturbance. Nothing malignant or harmful. Just judging. Testing. Analyzing the woman.

The sensation soon stopped, and Kohltavi smiled. “Strength _and_ intelligence.” Vegeta felt himself mentally sigh in relief when she turned to him and radiated not just acceptance of Bulma, but also admiration. “Well done.”

Vegeta smirked, resting a hand on the small of Bulma’s back.

She turned to Goku. “Present to me your urave, Kakarot.”

He watched Chichi stand in between Bulma and Goku. She stood with the posture of a princess, her chin tilted up, her eyes narrowed.

Kohltavi performed the same invisible exercise. Unlike with Bulma, she frowned the entire time. Vegeta watched her old eyes scan over Chichi, look her over from head to toe. Again, he felt a disturbance in the air, but while the way she analyzed Bulma didn’t feel harmful, this one almost did. Almost.

Goku caught his gaze for a moment. Over the r’bhon’or, all Vegeta felt was his worry and concern. He couldn’t send over feelings of reassurance to him. Not when it would be a lie to his mate, and considering Kohltavi hated lies, he couldn’t do it. Somehow, she would find out he lied to Goku, someway, and he wasn’t going to chance it.

The sensation stopped. Kohltavi still frowned. “Hm.” She tilted her head to the side. “A similar urave—” Her glare to Chichi struck like a dagger to the heart. “—but an obvious difference.” She stepped forward, closing the gap between Chichi and herself. “You doubt your place by his side.”

“I’m here to support him.”

“That you are.” Her eyes narrowed. “But your resentment festers like rotten flesh.” She glanced at Goku, and Vegeta winced at the sharp spike of fear that came over the r’bhon’or. “This Saiyan doesn’t need the likes of you here.” She turned on her heel, giving Chichi a parting glare. “Return to your universe, princess.”

Goku stepped forward, a hand outstretched. “Kohltavi, please—”

“The t’sha’to phe’hi can go on without her.”

“But—”

She rose a hand in the air as she walked back to the altar. “It is done, n’dra’ge.”

“Kohltavi—”

“You can’t make me leave,” Chichi interrupted, glaring right at Kohltavi’s back. “I’m staying here and I’m participating in this. That’s my right as his urave.”

“Tch.” Kohltavi walked around the altar. “Urave in name only. You made your choice long ago, princess.”

“You don’t know me!”

Goku touched her shoulder. “Chichi, please—”

She pointed at Kohltavi as she snapped at Goku, “What right does she have to judge me? She doesn’t know what I’ve been through!”

From behind, Gohan passed Pan off to Videl. He stepped forward too. “Mom—” 

“She doesn’t know _anything—!_ ”

Kohltavi slammed a hand on top of the altar, causing Goku, Chichi and everyone in the room to look directly at her. Vegeta could feel that change in the air again, the sensation from before, but much more hostile, angrier, threatening. He slid his hand to Bulma’s waistline, pressing her closer to him, while eyeing Goku nearby.

“You, princess,” Kohltavi sneered, “are a _liar_. That is what I know. You wish to stay? Then speak your truth. Kill the resentment inside you for good by speaking to the person who needs to hear your truth the most.” Her eyes changed color to a lavender, and Vegeta saw the way Chikora and the four female servants stepped out of her line of sight. “Or leave.”

He watched Chichi take a step back, her lower lip trembling. The indecision on her face. The slight hint of fear. She glanced at Goku, back to Kohltavi, then closed her eyes and Vegeta heard her loud, long inhale, her pause, and then her long, drawn out exhale through her nose.

“Fine,” Chichi said.

She turned in his direction and marched over, right up to him.

Her slap to his cheek didn’t sting whatsoever. He didn’t even flinch or look away.

Around him, he heard everyone’s exclamations. Gohan’s shout of “Mom!” Goku’s shout of “Chichi!” Videl’s sharp gasp. Chikora’s too.

Bulma shouted, “Hey!” Vegeta felt her step forward, could feel the indignation coming off her in waves, so he squeezed her waist and pulled her back to his side.

When she glared at him, he shook his head no. “Let her do what she needs to do,” he said, then returned his attention to Chichi, keeping his hand on Bulma’s waist to hold her in place. “Was that all?”

In all the years he had known this woman, he’d never seen her this angry. “This is all your fault.” It seeped into every word she said to him. “If you hadn’t taken Goku here in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to compete with the likes of _you_.”

He watched Goku come up behind Chichi, felt the anguish inside of him over the r’bhon’or. His hand reached for Chichi’s shoulder. “Chi, please—”

“No, Goku.” She shrugged off his touch. “It has to be done.”

“But—”

“I have to let him know.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Goku said. “I did this to you.”

She snapped around to face him. “Because _he_ showed you what real love was.” Her long finger pointed right into Vegeta’s face. “He did that. _Him_ , not me. He made you happier than I ever could, and as much as I hoped I was over it, I’m not. He just came in and just—just gave you _everything_ I thought I was giving you, without any effort given at all—” She turned her attention back to Vegeta, glaring right at him. “And he never had to go through _any_ of the sacrifices I endured.”

“Mom…” Gohan stepped forward, coming to her side. “It’s done and over with.” He touched her shoulder. “It’s time to move on.”

Chichi shrugged off his touch too. She closed in whatever little gap was left between them, getting up right into Vegeta’s face. “I’ve never liked you. Never. I don’t know what the hell Bulma and Goku see in you, and frankly, I don’t care to know why, ever. Because quite frankly—” She hissed, getting nose to nose with him, “ _I hate you._ ”

Vegeta felt his free hand turn into a fist by his side. He quelled the urge to punch by setting his jaw firm, his teeth grinding a small amount.

She didn’t back away. Not one bit.

Beside him, Bulma thrummed with anger, and he squeezed her waist to hold her back, as well as to stop himself from letting her go.

“Mom, please.” Gohan wrapped a hand around her shoulder, pushing her back a little. “Stop it.” He glanced to the back of the room. “You’re upsetting dad.”

He followed Gohan’s line of sight, and all his anger and pent up rage disappeared at the sight of Goku standing in the middle of the room helplessly, shaking all over, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

Nothing mattered but this. Him. He found himself by Goku’s side in an instant, hugging the man tight with one arm, the other pushing his cold face into the crook of his neck. Over the r’bhon’or, he sent over feelings of love, affection, apology and a desperation for forgiveness, a need to receive absolution that he knew he didn’t deserve. In all of his anger and rage, he forgot to care for the one person who stood to be hurt most by this.

No tears fell. But he felt Goku’s anguish, his sadness and his grief. He petted the back of his head as he kissed his cheek, his neck, the underside of his ear, filling the r’bhon’or with every positive, loving emotion he could conjure up.

Little by little, Goku calmed in his arms. He slowly hugged Vegeta back, his arms wrapping around his waist. There was only one telltale sniffle, but that was the only outward sound he made.

When Goku pulled away, Vegeta caught his lips in a gentle kiss. He whispered over them, “E’t’au linge?” _Are you okay?_

His heart hurt at the sight of Goku’s small, sad smile, and his equally small, sad nod. “Aiii.”

“Kakarot—”

“I swear I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, dad.” Vegeta turned around, keeping a hand on the small of Goku’s back as he met Gohan’s stare at the opposite end of the room, Chichi by his side. “Stop blaming yourself. You weren’t the only one who made this relationship happen.”

“He’s right,” Bulma said. “We’ve been over this.”

“But Chichi—”

“Has her own problems to work through,” Gohan said, followed by a long, loud sigh. “As do I.” The second Gohan trained his attention back onto himself, Vegeta recognized the Saiyan in him, just like the day he defeated Cell years ago. “I might not like what you’ve done to my parents’s relationship, but you clearly care for my father the way I expect someone to. Do not hurt him, Vegeta. Ever. Or you will answer to me.”

He nodded, sliding his hand fully around Goku’s waist to squeeze it hard. “Understood.”

Gohan nodded in return, then focused his attention on Chichi, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I know that’s all you want for dad too, right mom?”

There was no hesitance in her own nod to him. The anger he saw before was gone, completely disappeared. As if it was never there to begin with. “I’ve never, ever seen my Goku this happy in his life,” she said, and her eyes shined with unshed tears, “and he was willing to give that all up, for me. You know that, Vegeta? He was going to never see you again, just to make me happy.”

He felt no shock, nor hurt, from her words. Vegeta only smiled and said, “Of course he did.”

The r’bhon’or thrummed with both Goku’s love and his guilt. He let Goku hug him close, his large arms hugging him around the waist. He didn’t pull away when Goku buried his face into his hair, his warmth breath tickling his scalp. Vegeta only kept his one arm around Goku’s waist and held on firm, looking at directly at Chichi.

Then, she smiled. A genuine, real smile. “Take care of him, Vegeta. Give him the love he deserves to have every day of his life.”

“He will,” Videl said. All eyes turned to her as she smiled, readjusting her grip around a sleeping Pan on her hip. “If any of you had been paying attention over the last year, I think it’s pretty obvious that Vegeta’s already been taking care of Goku. But you didn’t want to see it, Gohan. Neither did you, Chichi. You were both blinded by your prejudice and your anger. At least Goten got it out of his system way early on. That’s why I was saying you should go spar with your dad, dear, but you never listened. Anyway.” She shrugged. “Just saying.”

Vegeta suppressed the urge to smirk at Gohan and Chichi’s guilty faces. He stayed emotionless as they turned to him and said one after the other, “Sorry.” Chichi added on at the end, “I’m sorry I didn’t address this sooner, Goku.”

He felt Goku’s face lift from the top of his head. “It’s okay,” he said, but his hoarse voice and the emotions over the r’bhon’or said otherwise. His mate was upset—very upset—and Vegeta ignored everyone to kiss him on the cheek at the same time he sent over feelings of comfort and love.

Goku returned the favor, sending over those same feelings, as well as the same sweet, little kiss, right to his own cheek.

Four blurs and burst of ki entered the room in that moment. Trunks, Goten and the two twin princes zoomed right in, stopping in the middle of the room. They shouted over each other—“Hey everyone!” “We’re here!” “All done sparring!” “It was fun!” “What’d we miss?” “Anything important?”—and then they all paused as one, looking around the room in a stupor.

Trunks was the first to speak after a moment of silence. “Jeez, who died?”

Goten eyed Chichi warily from Baternat’s side. “You okay mom?”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Yes, dear.” Then turned her attention to Kohltavi at the altar on the balcony. “I am now.”

Kohltavi snorted. She directed her attention to the side, where Vegeta saw the King and the princess, standing quietly. She waved her hand in the air, muttering, “M’yien’jalo.” _Let it be._

Vegeta smiled at the King’s curt nod. “Chikora,” he said, and Vegeta chuckled at how everyone’s attention directed to the King with wide eyes, as if remembering he was there to begin with. “Now that everyone is here, let’s go over the procedure for the ceremony later today.”

Chikora blinked a few times. Then: “Oh! Oh yes, of course, m’yo Ve’ho, at once.” She rushed over to Kohltavi’s side, opening up the book in her hands. “Lady Kohltavi, let us begin with the processional.”

It didn’t take very long to do a dry run of the ceremony. Most of the work was on himself, not Goku. He practiced entering first, memorizing the words he had to say, and he sent over feelings of comfort when he felt Goku enter second. He wasn’t surprised to hear Goku stumbling over his Sadalan. The man was still thrumming with nervous energy and tumultuous amounts of emotion from what happened. He only hoped Goku would be better by the time their ceremony began.

The hardest part was hearing what Bulma and Chichi would have to say in Sadalan. He beamed with pride when Bulma said the words almost like a native. There was an accent to her Sadalan, but aside from that, she sounded perfect, and he smiled at her when they met gazes for a brief moment. She simply winked to him in return, a happy, awake Bulla squealing on her hip.

Chichi, of course, did not repeat the phrase. He didn’t expect it, and he knew it hurt Goku to not have her say it. Kohltavi took that moment to remind everyone that Chichi did not have to say anything at all for the ceremony to go forward. She had a protocol in place for this. Chichi said nothing, and it took everything in Vegeta to not go over and slap the woman stupid, especially when he could feel how heartbroken Goku was over the r’bhon’or.

By the time they finished, Kohltavi directed the two families in opposite directions. Vegeta watched Goku’s family head to the right side of the room, exiting out the door there that led to the chambers he assumed Goku would prepare himself in. He caught Chichi’s gaze as she left and he held back the anger, resentment and frustration from her sight, burying it all deep inside. Of course, that tipped off Goku, and while he felt comfort and love from the man, he also felt his deep regret and straight-up despair over all of this.

He waited until Gohan and his family had passed through the door before he grabbed Goku’s arms, yanked him to his side and kissed him right on the lips, in front of everyone. He poured every emotion through the r’bhon’or—love, forgiveness, comfort, adoration—and he smiled when Goku kissed in return, cupping his head in his large, warm hands.

Behind him, he heard Trunks audibly gagging, followed by a sharp “OW!”

Goku pulled away, ending their kiss. He rubbed the side of his cheeks with his thumbs, nudging his nose with his. Vegeta grinned at the feelings of love and thankfulness running through the r’bhon’or.

“Ve’ho’ti,” Kohltavi said.

He turned to the side, where Kohltavi stood cross-armed. Chikora stood next to her, smiling from ear-to-ear. The King lingered in the background with a similar smile on his face.

“It’s time,” she said.

Vegeta nodded. “Yes, Lady Kohltavi.” He pecked Goku’s lips one last time before stepping away, Goku’s hands sliding away from his cheeks. “Go. I’ll see you soon.”

He saw Goku’s little smile—the one he associated with every sensation of love and want that he felt every time over the r’bhon’or. He expected a nod, an affirmation, maybe even one more kiss before he left.

But never did he expect Goku to grab his hand and kiss his knuckles, nor did he ever fathom that the man would ever say the words that he whispered with a reverence that weakened his knees and stopped the world in its tracks.

“Aiii, m’yo ve’ho’ti.”

_Yes, my prince._

Vegeta stood, frozen in place, watching Goku turn away and exit the room, closing the door behind him.

Soft hand on his shoulder. Feminine chuckle. “Doing okay there, buddy?” Bulma said beside him, and he felt her hand twine with his.

It took a minute or two, but Vegeta eventually nodded his head. He slowly regained control of his body, the numbness wearing off. He cleared his throat before saying, “Let’s go,” and he led Bulma and his family through the opposite door.

***

The sun began to set outside the window by the time Vegeta finished preparing. He followed all the rules that were lined out in the book Chikora sent them: washed himself thoroughly all over, rubbed his skin with scentless oil from head to toe after, crushed the fresh herbs he found waiting for him on the counter near his tub, rubbed the dark green paste it formed across his cheeks, forehead and chin, then knelt on the ground naked and prayed to the goddesses in Sadalan as his skin dried. He made sure to thank Soli as much as he thanked his own goddess, Tor. Only once did his mind drift away—a stray thought about Goku, how he was doing, if he was feeling okay, if he should open the r’bhon’or despite what the book said about keeping it closed until Kohltavi said so. But that thought came and went, and he was easily able to refocus his thoughts on the goddesses alone.

When he stood up, he wiped the herbal residue off his face and walked to the closet as the book instructed, opening the wooden doors wide open. Inside hung armor fit for a king. Black armor with gold shoulder pads hung to one side of the closet . Three ankle-length black pieces of leather attached to a large gold belt hung beside it, the belt adorned with oval-shaped purple gems all spaced out wide from each other. Below it were black boots with gold tips, and the shine on them told Vegeta they were new. On the other side hung black spandex long-sleeve top and bottoms, and gold and onyx wristbands.

He ran a hand over the left breast plate of the armor, his lips curling into a smile. Etched in blood red and trimmed in gold was the crest of the House of Vegeta, perfectly replicated.

Vegeta closed his eyes, bowing his head.

_Ja’ta. Na’ma. If you could be here today…_

He chuckled.

_You’d hate all of this._

It fit perfectly. The shoes, the belt, the armor—everything. It fit him like a glove. He stood in front of the full length mirror next to the closet, double checking if everything was buckled, zipped up, secured correctly. He adjusted the purple stone around his neck, his white gloves and wrist guards, and ran a hand down the front of the large black overskirt flaps that attached to the base of his armor.

A knock on the door caused him to turn around. “R’eh bani?” _Who is it?_

A soldier answered, “L’Ve’ho, um’bako.” _The King, your highness._

“M’ye’kathi.” _Let him in._

The door swung wide open. He caught the soldier there saluting with his free hand, the other holding the door in place. In came the King, dressed in his usual Sadalan armor, but now in all black and no cape attached to his shoulder pads. However, a sword was attached to his hip, the sheath matching the gold color of his boots.

“Uzko du Soli, Vegeta,” he said, offering his hand.

Vegeta closed the gap between. “Tor vuma uthi’ho.” Their hands clasped, the sound echoing in the room. “The time draws near.”

“That it does. Your urave and children await you in the next room.” He released his grip on Vegeta, his head tilting up and down. “A perfect fit, I see.”

“Thank you for this gift, m’yo Ve’ho.”

“Suk ye’hala _,_ ve’ho’ti.” _Do not worry, prince._ “We are similar in build, so I figured—” He smirked, gesturing to Vegeta’s whole outfit. “‘Why not give this old suit one more run?’”

Vegeta froze. He stared at the King for a moment, his lips forming words to no voice. Eventually, he found that voice, hoarse and throaty as it was. “This was yours.”

“Aiii, on the day of my own ceremony. Though it was no t’sha’to phe’hi, but a t’sha’to se’sik’ni. A bit different from yours, as we were not mah’kha’or.”

“You are too generous, m’yo Ve’ho.”

“Tch. Please. It’s the least I can do—” He grabbed Vegeta’s bicep, giving it a strong squeeze. “For a fellow King.”

His throat closed up. Vegeta placed his hand over Sadala’s on his bicep. “I am no King.”

“But you _do_ have a kingdom.” He nodded over Vegeta’s shoulder, forcing Vegeta to turn around. “See for yourself.”

Vegeta let him turn his body and yet again, he found himself frozen in place at what he saw.

His son, Trunks, dressed in a similar outfit to the one he wore as a child, red cape fluttering around him as he practiced a kata in the middle of the room. It even had the same red crest on his left breastplate.

His urave, Bulma, dressed in an outfit for a queen. A boat-neck, trumpet-styled dark blue gown, covered in crystals, with a deep V back. Gold jewelry adorned her neck, her ears, each of her wrists. A single headband of crystals laid in her hair, shining in the waning sunlight.

His daughter, Bulla, dressed in an outfit similar to the one he saw Chikora wear in the past, but in dark blue, just like her mother. A single white bow rested on top of her head. She clapped her chubby hands together as Bulma giggled at her, tickling her belly.

Beside him, the King said, “Your people are gone, your planet was destroyed, but you will always have a kingdom.” The hand on his bicep left him. “A kingdom that will grow, after today.”

Vegeta walked forward, entering the main room where his family—his kingdom—waited for him. Almost as one, their attentions turned to him, and they all broke out into wide-eyed grins.

“You look awesome, papa!” Trunks shouted, rushing over to stand before him. “How about me? Whatcha think?”

He smiled, resting a palm on top of his head. “Like a prince.”

“Hee!”

Vegeta chuckled as Trunks shouted “Hey, knock it off!” when he ruffled his hair. He relented as he noticed Bulma coming over to them, a happy, babbling Bulla bouncing on her hip.

“Doesn’t mom look amazing?!” Trunks said, darting his attention between each of them.

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, whispering against her ear, “Absolutely.”

From this close, he could see her small shiver. “Tease.” Bulma kissed his cheek in return, before depositing their daughter into Vegeta’s arms. “Seems like Bulla wants her King’s attention.”

Bulla squealed in happiness, snuggling up to his chest. Vegeta rested a hand against her upper back, nudging his nose against the side of her bald head. “How can I deny my princess?”

“You’re turning her into spoiled brat.”

“As a princess should be.”

Bulma sighed. “You know what—”

“Papa, look!” Vegeta turned to the direction of Trunks’s voice. He found his son against one of the massive windows, hands latched onto the edge, his head poking out to look below. “There’s so many of them! It’s like the whole planet showed up!”

Vegeta walked up to him with Bulma in tow. He leaned over Trunks and smiled at the view he found. Hundreds of Saiyans passed through the palace walls, gathering before the balcony. Old Saiyans. Young Saiyans. Tall, large, short, lanky. Every walk of life. Every type of Saiyan. They congregated, chatted, laughed, some even locked in heated arguments from what Vegeta could tell.

“Oh wow,” Bulma said, straining her head out too beyond the window’s edge. “You weren’t kidding.”

Trunks tilted his head up to him. “Are they all here to see you and Goku get married?”

“Not a wedding, Trunks. But yes.” He gazed back out to the crowd that steadily grew the more time passed. “They are here to witness our union.”

“Are you excited to be Goku’s mate, papa?”

“I already am. This is just a formality.”

“Not from what I read from Mom’s notes. You’re going to share that umoya thing and have an unbreakable bond of some kind.” Trunks frowned. “Sounds serious.”

Vegeta nodded. “It is.”

“Does this mean Goten and I are going to officially be brothers?”

“Yes.”

“Cool! Don’t screw up, okay?”

Bulma hissed, “Trunks!”

From behind, he heard the King say, “He won’t.” He turned as his family did, finding the King standing in the middle of the room with a big smile. “He’ll be just fine.” He gestured over to the door they all initially walked through much earlier. “It’s time, ve’ho’ti.”

Vegeta nodded. He passed over Bulla back to Bulma—and he startled a little when she abruptly kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” she said.

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her right on the lips, a gentle kiss that lingered for a moment. He brushed her painted lips with his, the tips of their noses just touching. “I love you too.”

“Ugh, gross,” Trunks groaned.

“Shut it, boy.” He gave Bulma one last kiss, whispering low enough for her to still hear, “Thank you, my urave.”

“Of course—” He melted at the sight of _that_ smirk. “My prince.”

There was no way he could hold back his shiver at those words. It didn’t matter that Bulma outwardly giggled at him, or that his son looked at him weird, or that Bulla was being her silly self, tugging on her mother’s hair already. They were words he thought he’d never hear, titles that died the day his planet did, and now they were being said with such casual ease, without mockery. Only sincerity. Meaningful.

He resisted the urge to devour Bulma’s lips and pecked her lips one more time before turning away to lead his family and the King out the door.

***

He wasn’t ready. Goku knew he wasn’t ready. He kept the book with all the rules he had to follow wide open on the counter next to the tub, checking it more than once to make sure he was doing it correctly. It felt weird to wash himself thoroughly all over, rub his skin with scentless oil, only to crush fresh herbs and rub the paste over his cheeks, forehead and chin. Why he had to dirty himself again after scrubbing himself raw, he didn’t understand. But there was a positive, at least. The smell of the herbs in the bowl he crushed them in reminded him so much of his mother that he ended up feeling much less nervous and less upset than beforehand. 

As the book instructed, he knelt on the ground naked and prayed to the goddesses in Sadalan as his skin dried. He made sure to thank Soli as much as he thanked Tor, but the smell of the herbs drifted him to thoughts of his parents. Soon he started thanking his parents in Sadalan—for sending him to Earth, for saving him, for loving him as much as they did. How much he wished they could be there for him on this day. How he wished they could meet their grandkids and great-grandchild. How much he loved them, and he ended his prayer by thanking the goddesses—Soli, for giving him his memories back, and Tor, for guiding him to Vegeta.

When he stood up, he wiped away the green gunk from his face. Part of him wished to open the r’bhon’or, to see what Vegeta was feeling now, but resisted the urge. The book said to keep that closed until Kohltavi instructed them to open it, and he knew Vegeta would be disappointed in him if he didn’t follow that rule.

He walked to the closet as the book instructed, opening the doors wide open. Inside he found an outfit that reminded him of Vegeta’s. Golden shoulder pads and bright white breastplate. Three ankle-length white pieces of leather attached to a large gold belt hung beside it, the belt adorned with oval-shaped red gems all spaced out wide from each other. Red and gold lining the edges of the leather pieces. White boots with gold tips rested on the other side of the closet, along with dark gold spandex long-sleeve top and bottoms, and gold wrist guards.

He ran a hand over the left breast plate of the armor, where the blood red symbol of the House of Vegeta lay etched, right over where his heart would be.

Goku smiled, closing his eyes.

_This is real._

He skipped his fingertips over the crest.

_It’s actually real._

It fit well. Everything fit, except the shoulder pads slightly dug in a bit, and the shoes were a little tight. He also fumbled with the belt for a bit, trying to figure out how to secure it, and he had some trouble putting on his own wristbands since they too had a weird lock to them. But once he finished, Goku stood in front of the full length mirror next to the closet.

It was very different. Very much like Vegeta’s outfit, sans the cape, and he was thankful he didn’t have to try figuring out how to put one of those things on. He fiddled with the white stone around his neck, the waning sunlight outside giving the stone almost a rainbow-like sparkle, and butterflies built up in his stomach, his throat suddenly parched. He heard his heartbeat in his ears, heard the people gathering outside, and he took a deep breath, held it for five seconds. The exhale felt good. Needed. He shut his eyes for a moment, repeating the process again, and the exhale felt just as good then.

Goku clutched the stone in his hand, taking one more deep breath. Deeper than the last. Held it longer than the one before.

On the exhale, he fluttered his eyes open.

He stared at himself in the mirror, right at the crest of Vegeta.

A knock at the door. Goku didn’t look away as he shouted, “Aiii?” _Yes?_

“Ve’ho’tah Chikora es’pha.” _Princess Chikora is here._

“M’eni’kath!” _Let her in!_

The door swung open. He saw the soldier standing guard there saluting with his free hand, the other holding the door in place. Princess Chikora’s heels clicked on the floor, wearing her usual outfit, but with an additional item that starkly reminded him of Kohltavi’s: a floor-length, long sleeved, dark purple robe, its draped ends swallowing up her hands.

“It’s time,” she said, standing near the door. “Are you ready?”

Goku ignored the butterflies and the tightness in his chest. “As much as I’ll ever be.”

“Do you need to go over anything?” She crossed the room to the counter where the open rule book still laid, picking it up with both of her hands. “We can stall for a few minutes if need be.”

“No.” He met her gaze, watching her slowly close the book. “If I don’t know it by now, then…” Goku shrugged.

“Goku—”

“I don’t have much to do anyway.”

“Yes, but—” She walked up to him. “You have help.”

“I know I do.” He saw the concern and worry on Chikora’s face when she stopped in front of him, and the sight somehow made him feel better. “You’ve done so much for me.” He rested his hands onto her shoulders. “But I’ll be okay. I swear it.” He squeezed those shoulders, feeling the nervous tension inside him melting away. “At the end of the day—” Goku smiled. “I’m marrying the man I love.”

The nervousness on her face melted away with a relieved sigh and Chikora’s small smile. “You’ll do great.”

Goku wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into the top of her head as he pulled her into a gentle hug. Against her scalp, he muttered, “D’in m’yo, ve’ho’tah Chikora. For everything.”

He felt one of Chikora’s arms leave the book to wrap around his back in return, her cheek pressing deep against the curve of his shoulder. Against the armor, he heard he whisper in return, “You are very welcome.” That arm hugged him tight, the strength behind it, catching him off guard almost as much as her next word did: “Kakarot.”

Chikora stepped away, giving Goku a parting smile, before walking out of the room into the main chamber. Goku followed behind her, where he found his family waiting for him. Goten and Gohan were knee-deep in some sort of conversation, both dressed in the same kind of Sadalan armor he wore. Videl sat next to her husband, a happy babbly Pan on her lap, both dressed in a similar outfit to Chikora’s but in all black. Standing at the largest window of the room stood Chichi, who looked the most different out of them all: a high neck red dress, fully covered back, sleeveless, and a long flowing skirt trimmed in gold.

Goten and Gohan noticed him first, both abruptly stopping their conversation to look at him. Of the two, Goten ran right up to him. “Dad!” He swung his arms around his waist. “You look great!”

Goku knelt down to hug him properly. “You do too, buddy.”

“Ready to go marry Vegeta?”

“Not a wedding,” he heard Chikora say from behind.

Goten released his hold, and Goku let him go. He watched Goten turn to Chikora with a frown. “But they’re gonna exchange vows and stuff, right?”

“They are, as well as umoya.” Chikora gestured Goten to come to her, opening up the book again. “I can explain it—”

“Nope, don’t care!” He walked away with a big grin on his face. “All I know is that I’m gonna be Trunks’s brother and that’s enough for me!”

Goku scratched the back of his head, shooting an embarrassed side-eye to Chikora. To his relief, she neither looked annoyed or shocked. Only amused.

“I wouldn’t mind learning more,” Gohan said, rising from the couch. “But we probably don’t have time now. I think I heard Trunks and Bulma in the other room.”

“Oh, yes, true,” Chikora said, closing the book. “Another time then.” She gestured over to the door they all entered through initially. “I’ll double check to see how much longer we have before we begin the processional.”

As she left the room, Gohan walked over to him. He fidgeted in place for a moment—and Goku smiled at the way he scratched the back of his head too. “Dad, I’m— _oof!_ ”

Goku chuckled, hugging Gohan tight. He heard a slight wheeze and eased up a tiny bit with his strength, but didn’t let go of his embrace around his eldest son’s shoulders.

“I know you still have doubts, but I’m so grateful you still came.” He pressed a kiss to his temple. “Thank you, Gohan. _Thank you._ ”

Slowly, he felt Gohan’s arms wrap around him in return. It wasn’t as strong of a hug, but it was one nonetheless. He could hear the tremble in his breath and his body, the tremble in his voice when he muttered against his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

“Honey,” Videl said, coming up to his side to touch Gohan’s shoulder, “what did I say? We’ve been over this.”

A tell-tale sniffle, loud and clear, next to his ear. “You’re right.” He felt Gohan’s head lift from his shoulder, and he released his grip on Gohan to look right at him. “I’m happy for you, dad. Really.” A watery smile. “You’ll do great out there.”

“And if you forget something,” Videl said, pressing up against Gohan, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, “who cares, you’re getting married!” She giggled.

Goku took his time hugging Videl, mindful of Pan between them. “Thank you so much, Videl.”

Like Gohan, he kissed her temple, and then kissed Pan’s forehead, smiling when his granddaughter tried reaching for his hair to pull. He offered her his finger and she put it promptly into her mouth, laughing when Goku pulled it back.

At the sound of the door opening again, they all turned to the source. Chikora stood in the doorway, the book no longer in her possession. A new item instead was on her person—a spear, similar to the ones the guards wore, latched onto her back.

She smiled, surveying the room. “Come take your places everyone. We’re starting.”

“Yay!” Goten rushed to her, waving over his shoulder. “Good luck, dad!”

“We love you!” Videl shouted, waving as well.

Gohan nodded to him, following his little brother, wife and daughter out of the room. Goku watched them go with Chikora, who left the door wide open for him.

Inside the chamber, he caught a glimpse of Trunks, who ran up to his best friend, chatting a mile a minute. There, he watched Bulma walk over to them, and his breath caught at how gorgeous she looked in that sparkling, skin-tight blue dress, adorned in gold jewelry, the headband in her hair twinkling, as if she was royalty herself.

She shushed Goten and Trunks, her lips in a frown as she spoke with them, then ushered them out of his line of sight, most likely to their seats. Her gaze drifted upwards, and he saw her eyes widen, spotting him.

Bulma grinned and mouthed the words ‘you look amazing.’

Goku grinned too and mouthed words in return ‘you too.’

She winked at him before leaving his line of sight as well.

His smile disappeared completely as his heartbeat sped up, his stomach flipping, his chest tightening. It would be a while until it was his turn to emerge. He knew what the cue was. The book was explicit in that Kohltavi would be the one to summon him. But none of that logic eased away his nervousness, and he knew exactly why.

Goku turned to the large window, where Chichi still stood, unmoving like a statue, her hands planted palms down on the windowsill.

From outside, he heard music—horns, strings, loud, pounding drums. A heavy bass, carrying the tune. The roar of a very large, very excited crowd. Cheers upon cheers. Clapping and whistling.

Then the crowd _sung_ with the beat, as one strong voice. He interpreted the five lines they sung: _The priestess calls upon the goddesses for you. The goddesses call upon you to come and speak. They are here, here they are, they wait for you to arrive. Come and speak to the goddesses who wait for you. Join as one under their gaze as the priestess calls for you._ The interpretation wasn’t as good as the Sadalan the crowd sung. The lyrics repeated over and over, and the crowd didn’t drone on, didn’t chant. They sung with joy and excitement, sung to the melody, to the beat, and the sound soothed Goku’s nerves just enough to try and talk.

He opened his mouth—and then Chichi said, “There’s so many of them.” He watched her hands slide away from the windowsill to her sides. “Thousands.”

She turned her head a little. He could see the corner of her mouth when she asked, “Do you know what they’re saying?”

Goku fumbled for a moment before replying, “They’re calling upon the goddesses for us, so we can… ‘join as one.’”

“Ah.” Chichi returned her attention to the window again.

The crowd kept singing. The song kept going.

He could hear Trunks and Goten’s voices from the other room, how they tried singing along. Heard Bulla’s delighted squeal. Same with Pan’s.

Then, Chichi turned around fully.

Her red lips matched the dress perfectly. Two long ruby drop earrings hung from her ears, a ruby headband in her hair, similar to Bulma’s.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

The song finally came to an end with a loud roar from the crowd. Chichi shrugged. “Not really my style. But thank you.” He heard the King begin to speak as she looked him up and down and said, “You look…” A sad smile. “Saiyan.”

Goku quirked a sad smile of his own. “Is that a compliment?”

Her heels clicked across the stone floor as she crossed over the room from the window to his side. The King’s voice boomed from outside, filtering into the room.

Chichi lifted a hand to one of his cheeks, cupping it. She searched his face with a look Goku couldn’t discern or label, something he had no name for.

Then, she went to her tip toes and kissed him on his other cheek.

Goku smiled at the same time she did, pulling away. He grabbed her hand on his cheek before she could move away completely and kissed her knuckles, squeezing her fingers lightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Be happy, Goku. Love him well.”

He nodded, kissing her hand one last time before releasing his grip—and he grinned wholeheartedly when Chichi didn’t let go. She held on and stayed by his side, looking forward, squeezing his hand with all of her strength. He returned the gesture as delicately as he could, all the nerves inside gone the second their palms met.

***

Vegeta saluted the King once he finished addressing the crowd in front of Kohltavi’s holy golden altar. The King nodded to him in return, slapping his shoulder once before standing to his immediate side, a hand drifting to the sword’s handle as per custom. On the other side of the altar stood Princess Chikora, the two spears on her back glinting in the waning sunlight.

He glanced to the side of the large balcony, where in burgundy thrones sat Beerus, Whis, Bulma and Trunks, Bulla quietly sitting on Bulma’s lap for once. On the other side sat Gohan holding a squirming Pan, Videl and Goten. Between the two families was a long burgundy runner with gold jacquard pattern, leading up to the altar, where at the base of it rested many floral arrangements and votive candles in various glass vases and cylinders.

Kohltavi emerged from the shadows, dressed in a long purple robe Vegeta found familiar, a stone around her neck. She wore a gold and silver headdress, strands of gold criss-crossing over the middle of her brow and hanging off the sides of her cheeks. One gold strand attached to her gold nose ring, the ruby on it shining bright, like the rubies that hung from her ears and her wrists.

She stood in front of the altar, facing the crowd and rose her hands into the air, turning her attention to the sky. “M’eh kuza khu’ge cha’ir Soli ni Tor le’mo, xa la’ni’ya diba!” _I call upon the great warrior goddesses Soli and Tor at this moment, when sun and moon meet!_ “Se’zi inqua’o n’au ukufane, ke m’eha d’lu t’au t’si’ke kuya!” _Use this vessel as you see fit, so I may pass your blessings onto them!_

The stone around her neck glowed, as did her eyes—a light lavender. She turned to Chikora, offering a hand out to her. He watched the princess remove the spears from her back and with lightning precision, she made an ‘x’ and the spears’s sharp tips cut into her palm. Kohltavi didn’t wince at all. Blood poured from her hand to the floor. She reached her other hand out and the King unsheated his sword, also using lightning precision to cut into her offered palm.

If he hadn’t read the book, he would’ve been in shock at the sight. But as the book said would happen, Kohltavi’s blood vanished from the floor as she brought her palms down onto the altar. From her hands came a purple-red light that seeped over and down the entire altar, bathing it completely in that light, before disappearing. When she rose her hands, no blood could be found, nor any signs of the cuts to her palms.

Her eyes still glowed that light lavender as she turned to Vegeta. “Ve’ho’ti Vegeta”—her voice changed, as if two different voices echoed in a cave—“T’au ye’andi inqo’ni’ba nga’la?” _Are you of sound mind and body on this day?_

“Aiii, Lady Kohltavi.”

“Yen’au qonda r’en lo’mitho kubanda ni’funa?” _Do you understand what this ceremony entails and requires?_

“Aiii, Lady Kohltavi.”

“Inga’yi r’en au kangela kwene?” _Is this what you truly seek?_

He smirked. “Yi r’en m’eh t’ui.” _It is what I need._

“Okwan’ku m’eh t’au mah’kha.” _Present to me your mate._

“M’eh ayi’wa.” _I cannot._ He turned to Bulma, who easily passed off Bulla to their son. She stood up in her chair as he said, “M’eh’nayo iqa urave, n’jen m’yo mah’kha.” _I have an urave, as does my mate._

“Kakulelu.” _Very well._ Kohltavi turned away from the altar, her arms outstretched, the many bracelets around her wrists jingling. “Phu’ma mah’kha ni uravoa, kye!” _Come forth mate and uraves, at once!_

Bulma walked forward right to his side. He admired the way the light made her sparkle like the ocean at sunset, its calm waves soothing, easing nerves, just like she did now, standing here with him.

He felt her lightly brush fingertips against his pinky and resisted the urge to return the gesture. But he appreciated the sensation, as he could hear the clicks of heels and the rustling of armor coming closer to the balcony.

Out of the shadows came Goku—and Vegeta felt his mouth open wide, felt the world almost stop in that moment. He looked like a god from on high, dressed in white and gold. A perfect representation of the sun itself. A perfect child of Soli. The way the armor fit him. The stone around his neck glistening like captured rainbows. How he smiled, and he wished he could open the r’bhon’or in that moment, to let Goku know how much he truly loved the way he looked, how gorgeous and beautiful he looked in that moment. But he could tell in Goku’s look, his smile, that the man knew full well how Vegeta felt.

Kohltavi gestured to both families to rise. They did as Goku walked down the burgundy runner one step at a time, Chichi giving him some good distance in front of her. Vegeta took in her own dress, the crimson red and sunset gold appropriately matching the woman quite well.

Once he was a few feet away from the altar, Goku knelt down to one knee before Kohltavi, bowing his head. She placed a hand on top of his head, a soothing, warm light coming from her palm. With her free hand, she gestured it to Bulma, her light lavender eyes meeting Bulma’s blue own.

“Yenza l’urave yi ve’ho’ti Vegeta vu’me kule n’to r’bhon’or?” _Does the urave of Vegeta consent to this binding?_

Bulma replied in impeccable Sadalan, “M’eh vu’me ni vuyo nika.” _I consent and gladly give._

Vegeta flicked his pinky against hers. From the corner of his vision, he caught her wry smile and stayed perfectly still and quiet when she repeated the gesture to him.

Kohltavi then gestured to Chichi, who stood right behind Goku. Her lavender eyes locked onto Chichi’s black own as she said, “Yenza l’urave yi Kakarot vu’me kule n’to r’bhon’or?” _Does the urave of Kakarot consent to this binding?_

He waited for her to say nothing. Maybe even outwardly reject it. Maybe she didn’t even know what exactly to say.

Chichi turned her attention right to him, breaking the protocol, but it didn’t matter when she said the words he didn’t expect her to say whatsoever.

“I consent and gladly give.”

Vegeta gave her the slightest of nods.

She returned the gesture, her lips a thin line, then returned her attention back to Kohltavi.

Kohltavi took her hand from Goku’s head as she turned back to the audience of Saiyans below, quietly watching the ceremony with rapt attention. “Mayaze!” _Let it be known_! She reached her hands towards the people below, both palms glowing now. “Ga urave imvume kule n’to r’bhonor!” _Each urave consents to this binding!_ She gestured to Vegeta. “Rada ku t’au mah’kha, ve’ho’ti Vegeta.” _Come to your mate, Prince Vegeta._

He walked forward, taking Kohltavi’s spot in front of Goku. She made her way around to the other side of the altar as he offered a gloved hand, placing it in front of Goku’s line of sight.

Time slowed as he watched Goku’s hand come into his. He pulled the man up to his feet and felt his breath catch yet again at how he looked—that smile, his eyes, the light blush across his cheeks.

From the corner of his vision, he watched Bulma return to her seat, while Chichi took hers beside Gohan, the only empty throne left. In the other corner of his vision, he watched Kohltavi touch the altar and a light shot forth, like a bubble bursting in the air.

On the altar, Kohltavi materialized two golden bowls. One was full of golden liquid, the other purple. The sun and the moon, liquified on the altar before them.

Kohltavi gestured to the golden liquid first. Vegeta looked away from Goku for a brief second to dip two of his gloved fingers into the gel-like substance. Like he did to himself in the chamber earlier, Vegeta ran his fingers over Goku’s forehead, cheeks and chin. But he added on, spreading two lines on either side of his nose, and then finally, over the corner of his neck, like the Saiyan mating bites of old.

As he performed the first ritual, Kohltavi spoke. Her twin-echoed voice sounded much louder than before, almost like it was amplified. In Sadalan, she said: _Dear Soli, bless this holy bond, a true binding by your will, with your finest grace and love, let this last for eternity._

He finished at the same time Kohltavi did. The gold gel-like liquid on Goku’s face and neck faded away at the same time too.

Goku’s whole chest lifted with his inhale. On his visible, soft exhale, he then turned to the altar, dipping his own bare fingers into the purple, inky liquid.

Vegeta never looked away as he performed the same ritual upon his face, the cool gel-like liquid almost burning his skin. Almost, because it didn’t truly burn. More like a tingle, as if someone was lightly etching something onto his body forever.

As Goku moved his fingers over his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and his chin, Vegeta listened to Kohltavi speak again. In perfect Sadalan, she said: _Dear Tor, bless this holy bond_ , _a true binding to be proud of, make their bond stronger every day, their union undissolved forever._

He felt the liquid evaporate off his skin the second Goku and Kohltavi finished. On the altar, Kohltavi ran her glowing hands over the bowls, and the liquids changed from gold and purple to clear, colorless liquid.

Vegeta reached for the bowl closest to himself first. Goku mimicked him. Only then did Vegeta close his eyes, tipping the edge of the golden bowl to his lips.

He drank slowly, the tasteless, lukewarm liquid running down his throat. As he did, Kohltavi spoke in Sadalan again: _Dear goddesses, watch them drink in honor of their ancestors_ , _of the millions lost in a universe similar to our own_ —and Vegeta felt a heaviness in his chest when Kohltavi said— _for Bardock, Gine, King Vegeta the Third and Queen Cassava_. _Watch them honor the fallen and the never forgotten._

After he drank the last drop, he opened his eyes and found Goku there, drifting the bowl away from his lips as he did. As one, they placed the bowls back onto the altar.

With a wave of both her glowing hands, the bowls disappeared completely, as did the altar. It dematerialized into nothingness, as the book told them would happen. Kohltavi took a step forward between them, her glowing palms turned up. Each one reached in the direction of the other.

The nervousness was clear on Goku’s face, despite how still his body was and how poised he looked. Vegeta resisted the urge to open the r’bhon’or to sooth him. It wasn’t time yet. There was a strict order they had to follow. But he knew why Goku feared this moment. It was the one where Vegeta knew he doubted himself the most. The most important part of the whole ceremony.

If he could touch him—mouth words of reassurance—anything at all, he would. But he couldn’t. All he could do was convey whatever he could through his face alone, hoping it would help Goku in some way. He thought _I love you, I love you Kakarot, I love you_ again and again, hoping that would show in his face, somehow. Hoping that would be enough.

Kohltavi rose her hands into the air again. From her palms the light shot out, forming a dome around herself, Vegeta and Goku. It glittered around them like pristine glass in the waning sunlight.

As her hands fell, she brought them together to the middle of her chest, palm to palm. Her eyes burned a brighter lavender as her booming voice said, “Isi’cha’ir”— _Dear goddesses_ —“yiva ya’si’kle the’biso n’ku”— _hear their sacred vows now_ —“ya’bo’phele ni ya’holo om’nye kom’ye ni’au.”— _their commitment and their faith to each other and to you._

Vegeta watched Goku take a deep breath. A long inhale through his nose as he closed his eyes. His chest puffed out on the lingering hold. The way his body slightly shook on the exhale.

Goku opened his eyes.

No lingering fear. None. Only determination—and affection. Love, for him.

The way the waning sunlight turned his skin gold. The twinkle in his eyes. The light breeze moving his hair here and there.

He smiled when Goku did.

As one, they said their vows, in perfect unison, their voices amplified, echoing throughout the kingdom:

“Maka’cha’ir uku’kela m’eh k’au”— _Praise the goddesses for guiding me to you_ —“iqabe ya’bo’ke’h.”— _the other half of all that I am_. “M’eh’pha m’yo’phe ke’t’au”— _I bind my soul to yours_ —“iba n’jehu e’na.”— _becoming as we once were_. “Nye iqurhu, nye zi’ba, nye’phe.” _One entity, one body, one soul._ “M’na’et cha’ir sikela m’ehu’to”— _May the goddesses bless our union_ —“ke’hu soze hlu’nisa kona”— _so we never part again_ —“ku’bo’mi o’kae de’la’yo.”— _in this life or the next._

He didn’t look away when Kohltavi said, “Ve’ho’ti Vegeta, bamba isanla seqa’be mah’kha.” _Prince Vegeta, take the hand of the one you call mate._

Slowly, he reached his left hand out—and paused for a moment. In an instant, he ungloved that hand, letting it fall to the floor, followed by the other one. The shock—and the sudden unshed tears—on Goku’s face was worth the annoyed look Kohltavi gave him.

Vegeta held Goku’s warm hand in his, palm to palm, skin to skin, Goku’s knuckles facing up.

Goku didn’t look away from him when Kohltavi said, “Kakarot, phakisa isanla seqa’be mah’kha.” _Kakarot, lift the hand of the one you call mate_.

He watched Goku lift their hands, watched him position their arms for what was to come next. He helped along the way as gentle—albeit shaky—fingers moved his own. Soon, each of their left arms were palm to palm, forearm to forearm, elbow to elbow in a perfect ninety degree angle.

Kohltavi pulled her hands from her chest. As her pressed palms drew away from each other, a red fabric emerged. It glowed much fainter than her hands, the fabric sparkling like the dome around them. Eventually, her hands stopped and she let one end fall to the floor, the other held in her fingers.

She lifted the fabric to them. It felt warm, silky, comforting. Like a gentle caress from a kind hand. As she circled it around their arms, starting at their elbows, she spoke:

“M’eh r’bhon’pha ki’t’au t’liyo.”

_I bind you together like the binding in your hearts._

The silky fabric glowed brighter as it wrapped around their forearms.

“Vu’le t’au phe’lo yiyani n’je’hu a’ye.”

_Let your souls come together as they once were._

Even brighter as she wrapped it around their wrists.

“N’ga’le, au’ku soza’le.”

_With this, you will never part._

She tucked the ends of the fabric between both of their palms. Only their fingers remained untouched, which she covered with both of her own palms, right landing first, followed by the left.

Kohltavi squeezed their bound hands.

Vegeta felt a telltale sting hit his eyes at her next words.

“N’ga’le, t’au’et mah’kha’or esh t’air.”

_With this, you are mates bound by the soul._

He heard Goku’s breath hitch, the bob of his throat, the way his eyes shined even more, even brighter. As bright as the silky fabric around their arms. He felt another sting in his own eyes, then another, the heat rising on his face, and he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but this.

Kohltavi removed her hands, finger by finger. She brought them back to the middle of her chest, palm to palm, bowing her neck to them.

Vegeta kept his attention right on Goku as they walked in a small circle—three times as the book dictated. The heels of their boots clicked along the balcony’s stone floor. Again, they spoke in perfect unison:

“N’ga’le, m’ehu ba’ye.”

_With this, we are one._

The ribbon around their arms changed color, from blood red to an iridescent white.

“N’ga’le, m’eh t’au’wa.”

_With this, I am yours._

Goku began to glow a soft gold all over.

“N’ga’le, au’yi m’yoa.”

_With this, you are mine._

Vegeta noticed his own arms glowing too—a silver glow.

When they stopped walking in the circle, Vegeta stood where Goku once was, adjacent to Goku’s family. Goku stood in his place, adjacent to his own family.

Together, they said, “M’ehu mah’kha’or esh t’air.”

_We are mates bound by the soul._

The glowing ribbon around their arms seemingly melted into their very skin. The only thing left glowing was their arms—their whole bodies. Themselves.

They no longer glowed one color but two very distinct colors. Gold and silver. The sun and the moon. Just like his goddess Tor showed him over a year ago. They still glowed even as their hands fell away from each other, back to their own sides.

Beautiful and ethereal, created only by true mah’kha’or. Their umoya’ir. A seamless twining of two colors, two hearts, two souls—now as one.

Kohltavi reached her hands up to the sky once more. The dome around them melted away, as did the light around each of them. When she parted her hands, streaks of colorful light cascaded around them like falling stars, each one hitting the ground like fat raindrops on wet concrete. He heard Goten and Trunks _ooh_ and _ahh_ , the happy claps of Bulla and Pan, even some Saiyans from down below gasped loud enough to reach his ears.

When the light finally faded, Kohltavi opened her eyes and lifted her head. No longer did they glow a light lavender. “Yi’gra.” _It is done._ She smiled at them both. “T’au mah’kha’or esh t’air, sikela ni ki’ha’ka nge’cha’ir phade.” _You are mates bound by the soul, blessed and protected by the goddesses forever._ She made a fist and rested it over her heart, bowing at the waist. “V’ila kha’tha bo’shi.” _Long may you both live._

Vegeta watched Goku struggle to speak, his moving lips, the tears ready to fall, gathered on the corners of his eyes. He eventually croaked out, “Uzko du Soli.”

He faired a little better as he said, “Tor vuma uthi’ho.”

Kohltavi chuckled. Her hand fell away from her fist as she stood up straight. “Ve’ho’ti Vegeta, t’au’kha vula r’bhon’or.” _Prince Vegeta, you may open the bond._

Without any effort given, he reached inside and opened the pathway.

His tears fell at the same time Goku’s did.

The book was vague about what would happen, once they opened the r’bhon’or again, at the end of the ceremony. He remembered Goku frowning as he interpreted the last lines, even giving the book to him to double check if what he translated was correct, and Goku was. Vegeta read the same lines too. They made no sense then.

_Then open the bond and see the storm of the night, the heart of the sun, the center of time and the turn of the universe. As ancient and wonderful as mates should be._

Flowery nonsense, he called it then. Nothing meaningful. Goku accepted it. So did Bulma. It was drivel, something written by the Saiyans of then who were just understanding magic, its potential and all it entailed. It meant nothing. It was supposed to mean nothing.

He could feel everything Goku did. He could see everything Goku could see. He saw himself, from Goku’s perspective. Felt the tremor running throughout Goku’s body at the same time he saw it. Felt his gasp as he watched it. The umoya, their umoya’ir—he could see it, around each other, the perfect blend of gold and silver and all the hues in between. He could see where the fabric was, around their left forearms, the only thing that glowed a pure, stark white.

Two hearts beating as one. Two sets of lungs breathing as one. He could hear it all, feel it all—feel _him_ , deep inside his mind and his body. Their r’bhon’or.

Before, the r’bhon’or felt like a narrow path, shrouded in darkness, unknown and foreign. Over the past year and a half, it grew, no longer narrow but not very wide either. No longer in darkness, but it was dim enough. No longer alien but not exactly confident with it. They worked together, figured it out together, played with it together, but it never really felt like Vegeta thought it should be. The texts he had on r’bhon’ora told him so. Maybe it would come in time and practice. Maybe this was all it would be. 

Vegeta stepped forward to Goku, closing the gap between them.

No darkness. No uncertainty. The r’bhon’or shined like they did, fully open, a bright, wide pathway that spoke of adventure into an unknown they could explore anytime, whenever they were ready. An adventure they had a lifetime to journey on.

He cupped Goku’s cheek into his bare hand. His thumb wiped away the tears there.

A lifetime with this man.

Goku sobbed. That watery smile. His eyes. The way he glowed.

_M’yo mah’kha._

More tears fell.

His own fell too, freely, when he heard in a soft, delicate whisper, echoing in his head.

_M’yo ve’ho’ti._

Goku’s voice. In his head.

Goku’s thoughts were in his head.

A skill mates didn’t develop until much later. A skill that took years to learn. A skill they shouldn’t have been able to tap into so easily, so fast.

Vegeta smirked, cupping Goku’s head with both his hands, pulling the man’s head down.

_Leave it to you to do the impossible._

He poured every amount of love, passion and adoration for this man in their kiss. It didn’t matter that the crowd of Saiyans below cheered and shouted for them. It didn’t matter that Bulma and Goten and Trunks whistled and laughed and clapped for them. It didn’t matter that King Sadala was talking to the crowd, that Chikora was shouting her delight, that Beerus screamed he was done with all this lovey-dovey crap, start the reception now or else or that Whis was laughing at his lord’s antics at the same time he calmed him down. None of that mattered. Only this moment. Only him.

Vegeta smiled as Goku’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, flat out chuckled into their kiss when the man lifted him up off the ground, crushed his arms ridiculously tight around his body and swung him around in a circle. His strength didn’t bother him. He let Goku do as he wished, let him hug him in a way that no other Saiyan could stand, let him take over their kiss, let him put him back down to the ground and slide his hands into his hair, let him deepen the kiss, let him be the one to end it.

When he did, Goku pushed their foreheads together. He cupped the back of Goku’s head the same way Goku did to his own.

Nose brush nosed. Hot breath onto each others parted lips.

“M’eh t’sha au, m’yo ve’ho’ti,” Goku whispered underneath the roar of the people.

Vegeta sighed with a smile. “M’eh t’sha au, m’yo mah’kha.”

They parted away from each other at the same time, their hands sliding out of their respective mate’s hair. Vegeta turned and offered his bent arm, as the book dictated he do for his mah’kha, and Goku responded, wrapping his hand around Vegeta’s elbow. Side by side, they walked down the aisle past their families and friends, never looking away from each other.


	13. Chapter 13

It was overwhelming. Goku could hear Vegeta in his mind, feel his feelings, almost like he was actually a piece of Vegeta himself. Almost like they were done fusing and were an all-powerful being again, but fusion never compared to this. It was either a pitiful attempt to mimic the r’bhon’or at its best, or a mockery of what he and Vegeta now had at its worst. Sometimes post-fusion, he’d be more in-tune with Vegeta’s ki, but that was it. Not like this. Never like this.

He knew his family was around him after the ceremony, where they lingered in the room for a bit as the large banquet hall finished preparing for their arrival. He heard the King speaking, knew Chikora was too. He could see Gohan’s happy smile, Goten laughing with Trunks, Bulma’s wide grin. He saw Beerus tapping his foot angrily, Whis giggling behind one of his hands, Bulla playing with Chikora’s hair, Pan fussing in Videl’s arms, Chichi actually smiling at him. But he couldn’t respond to them. He was solely focused on Vegeta, the r’bhon’or and… _everything._

Over the last year and a half, the r’bhon’or changed everything between them in the best way possible. Vegeta taught him and practiced with him how to harness the r’bhon’or better, how to send emotions over it, how to close it. The r’bhon’or was his helper when he didn’t know how Vegeta was feeling. It gave him hints on what Vegeta could possibly be thinking about. But he didn’t think he’d ever get as good with it as Vegeta was, and he was okay with that. It was good enough having the r’bhon’or as it was. He couldn’t imagine himself getting to the point where he could read Vegeta’s mind, or even share thoughts between the two of them. Vegeta told him that it would take years for them to reach that point, to talk to each other telepathically, let alone be able to read each others minds, and he was fine with never doing that. Maybe some day they could.

But then the ceremony. The silk fabric around their arms. The reopening of the r’bhon’or and their umoya’ir. _Their umoya’ir._

As they exited the room, Vegeta and himself leading everyone to the banquet hall, Goku couldn’t keep his eyes off the man. This was like the dark place Tor took him to, that exact Vegeta now beside him, walking with him as if they were always meant to be this way. He glowed still, just like in that dark place, but so much better. Brighter. Beautiful.

Vegeta had better control over this, somehow. Goku still struggled to say anything, his voice mute, his body in a way detached from himself, like he could observe himself from the outside in. He would’ve been worried, had there been no r’bhon’or to help him. Instead, he felt Vegeta’s comfort and love, his admiration and his pride— _pride_ , for _him_ —and it stopped any potential nerves or doubts to come forward.

Plus, the very soft, very faint whispers in his head helped too. Vegeta’s thoughts. It was so muffled in his head that he couldn’t make out all the words. They sounded like little whisps of wind in the evening, or the ruffling of grass on a summer morning. But the words he did pick up on— _beautiful, mine, beloved_ —were more than enough to keep Goku calm and feeling safe. 

At the familiar large double doors, he and Vegeta were greeted by the soldiers there, bowing to them. When the doors opened, they walked into a room full of Saiyans cheering and clapping for them. Mountains of food waiting for them all, with one ornate table on a high riser at the end of the hall and two large burgundy thrones.

Vegeta and himself sat there, where they listened to speeches from the King, Chikora, Bulma and, surprisingly, Chichi as well. All of them wishing them many happy years together. All of them telling a funny anecdote or two. All of them short, sweet and full of love for the two of them, toasting to their happiness and good fortune. Of them all, Chichi’s kept hers the shortest, but Goku loved it nonetheless. Those kind, loving words from them all helped ease his tension away and he felt more like himself again.

Together, he and Vegeta led a rendition of the echu batwa before other Saiyans joined in on the dance floor. Goku trusted Vegeta to lead him, as he always did, and his prince didn’t fail him. It was only a minute of dancing—much to Goku’s relief—but it was perfect. He didn’t mess up, and Vegeta did splendidly as always.

The reception passed by in a blur. So many Saiyans dancing and eating and singing. Saiyans conversing and arguing and laughing. Music played, food was passed around, jokes were told, stories shared, and Goku loved every single minute of it. The best part was that he knew Vegeta did too. He could feel it right through the r’bhon’or.

Towards the end of the evening, Kohltavi appeared before the two of them, and Goku froze when she said, “Yi’esha.” _It is time._

Goku felt Vegeta’s hand twine with his under the table. Feelings of love and affection, comfort and ease. That hand squeezed his hard, palm to palm, and Goku took a deep breath, nodding to Kohltavi.

He said goodbye to Gohan first, giving him a great big hug and a kiss to his cheek. He did the same for Videl, Goten and Chichi, in that order. Bulma was the one to hug him first and kiss his cheek before he returned the gesture. He hugged Trunks and kissed Bulla’s cheek last, and he smiled when he watched Vegeta do the same to his children. His smile grew when he watched Vegeta kiss Bulma with a passion that made him ridiculously happy to see.

Everyone generally wished him about the same sentiment: have fun, see you in a couple days, and have a wonderful ‘honeymoon,’ and Goku laughed when Vegeta snapped, “For the last time, _it’s not a honeymoon._ ”

As they left their families behind, Kohltavi leading the way, Goku held onto Vegeta’s hand, taking in measured, tempered breaths. This was the part he was afraid of, probably more than saying his vows at the same time as Vegeta, in front of their families and the entire planet. _Ixuba ye’t’air_ —the melding of souls.

In the order the book gave, this was the last piece of their ceremony—a private one that they and they alone had to do, for at least three days, but no more than five. Bulma, of course, teased them relentlessly about it being a ‘honeymoon,’ which Vegeta bristled hard over, but it wasn’t per say. They weren’t taking a trip anywhere exotic, they weren’t going anywhere special either. It was the last part of the ceremony, for themselves, so their r’bhon’or can settle. Based on the fact that he could still see their umoya’ir and had no idea how to turn it off, Goku was pleased and a little relieved that he had time to figure this out with Vegeta.

But it warned in the book that it could fail if they didn’t do the _ixuba ye’t’air_. The r’bhon’or could close up, become damaged, or it might actually sever all together, if they didn’t take this time to bond in private in the temple of a priestess. Considering Kohltavi’s temple was the most private area on the planet, and she was the one leading their ceremony, it made sense to stay there. Luckily, Kohltavi agreed to their request of a five day stay at her temple.

How the r’bhon’or could fail over those five days, Goku had no idea. What he did know about the ixuba ye’t’air wasn’t the part that scared him. He didn’t care that they had to ‘share passion in mind, body and soul’—something Bulma giggled like a schoolgirl over—didn’t care that they had to keep the r’bhon’or open a whole five days, didn’t care that they couldn’t leave the temple that whole time. None of it scared him. The thought of ruining the r’bhon’or did, that he would do something over those five days to hurt it, or worse. Lose it forever. _That_ scared him stupid. He couldn’t lose the r’bhon’or. Not after what they went through. Not after—

“Kakarot,” Vegeta said.

Goku shook his head. He refocused on what was around him, pushing his thoughts at bay. Under the rising moonlight, Kohltavi glistened all over. She stood in the middle of the royal gardens, smiling at them both.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

“It’s okay to be nervous, n’dra’ge,” Kohltavi said. “It will be fine.”

“Aiii, Lady Kohltavi,” Vegeta said, squeezing Goku’s hand. “It will be.”

She offered her hands forward and the palms glowed a soft, warm yellow light. “My temple is ready for your use. No one will bother you. No one will even be able to find you. I promise you will have everything you will need. You will not want for anything.”

“D’in m’yo, Lady Kohltavi,” Goku said. “For everything.”

“Of course.” She smirked, her ruby nose ring twinkling from the moonlight and her palms. “You two fascinate me, after all.”

Vegeta chuckled, reaching his free hand forward to hers. “We will see you in a few days.”

“Aiii, Prince Vegeta. You will.”

Goku reached forward with his own hand second. As one, they touched Kohltavi’s glowing hands—and in an instant, they appeared inside the golden walls of her temple.

It was vastly different from the last time he was here. Gone were most pieces of furniture, art work, even the ceiling. There was no ceiling, only the night sky, the full moon above and the peek of tree branches here and there. No cold air seeped in, only warm, gentle breezes. The temple also seemed a bit smaller too, yet Goku was positive if he was to walk outside, it would be its usual same, massive size.

There were thousands of candles, more so than in the past, sitting on windowsills, the floor, on top of candelabras, inside vases and jars, all flickering, all different shapes and sizes. The usual torches lined some of the walls, situated in between the many large windows. A golden table with some items on top sat nearby a very gigantic bed, bigger than any bed Goku ever slept in. Many pillows littered across the large oak bedframe. Four large bed posts reached up high into the sky, vines and plants and other foliage strung across each post, along with pieces of thin gossamer fabric.

He didn’t see any closets, any bathrooms, no kitchen either. He also didn’t find any of the bags they brought with them. Knowing Kohltavi though and her magic, all of those things would probably appear whenever they needed it. She promised they would want for nothing, and she never lied. Goku trusted that she would take care of them.

“Kakarot.” He felt Vegeta squeeze his hand. “Do you remember what the book said about the _ixuba ye’t’air_?”

Goku turned to him, nodding his head. “One of us is supposed to ‘lead’ the other on the first night. Right?”

Vegeta looked right at him, the moonlight casting dark shadows on his features and said, “I want it to be you.” He smiled. “I trust you.”

He smiled back. “Thank you, Vegeta.” He shook his head, watching Vegeta’s smile wane. “But I need it to be you. I know you trust me, but there’s so many things I could screw up and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“It’s a risk I can’t take.” He took Vegeta’s other bare hand into his. “I love you. I love _this_. I _can’t_ lose the r’bhon’or.”

“The r’bhon’or won’t disappear just because we don’t have sex the first night.”

“I don’t care.” He squeezed both of Vegeta’s hands, his voice wavering as he said, “Please Vegeta. We have five days. Teach me what to do and I swear I’ll learn.”

Vegeta’s smile returned with ease. “I know you will. I have faith in you.” His smile slightly wavered as he looked away, down to the floor. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured or coerced into this. You are not my lesser or my subservient.” He squeezed Goku’s hands just as hard in return. “You are my mah’kha. My partner. You should always feel like you have a say in things.”

“I know that because _you_ taught me that. You made it okay for me to say ‘no’ and not feel weird about it. I absolutely love that about you.” Goku let go of one of Vegeta’s hands to cup his chin and tilt it up, looking him right in the eye as he said, “And you make me feel safe. Always. I trust you to take care of me.” He shook his head no. “I just can’t be the one responsible. Not tonight.”

Vegeta grabbed his hand under his chin, bringing to knuckles to his lips. He kissed them and said, “I understand.” Kissed them once more, his dark eyes never leaving Goku’s, and nuzzled all four knuckles as he whispered, “I will guide you.”

The r’bhon’or pulsed like a livewire. Feelings of love and affection, safety and comfort—and desire and sheer _lust_ hit Goku full force, and he shivered all over as he whispered in a husky voice, “I love you, Vegeta.”

He heard the same rasp in Vegeta’s voice as well as he whispered back, “I love you too, Kakarot.”

Goku kept shaking as Vegeta pulled him in, closing his eyes. He followed suit when their lips met in an open-mouthed kiss. His hands trembled, arms wrapping around Vegeta’s neck as their tongues slid against each other. Hot breaths. Warm skin. Vegeta’s taste and his bare hands over his. Bare hands cupping his cheek, running through his hair, tickled the back of his neck the way Goku liked, and Goku moaned into the kiss, shivering even more.

Sweat soon gathered on his upper brow. His pants grew tight. Vegeta’s hands slipped under the armor, and Goku gasped, arching into his touch. Fire trailed behind each of Vegeta’s strokes to his bare skin, fingers running over his sensitive nipples, down his washboard abs, up the side of his torso, scratched over the middle of his sternum, and Goku dug his fingers into Vegeta’s back as he panted for air, arching more into him, trying to find his hardness, trying to rub them together.

A _click_ hit his ear, followed by another. The flaps of leather fell to the ground. Another _click,_ a strong jerk and there went the belt. A push of strong calloused hands up and over his shoulders, and the armor collapsed to the ground, bouncing a few feet away. Strong hands pushed the body suit top up and Goku pulled away from the kiss to help, reaching his arms up over his head. It fluttered in the air like a songbird, while the necklace that was around his neck made a gigantic _clang_ on the stone floor.

The room spun a little as those hands reached for the top of his pants. Vegeta leaned back in, kissing him again, and Goku succumbed to it, locking his arms around Vegeta’s neck. Strong hands yanked his pants down, freeing his hard cock, and Goku refused to release their kiss, instead trying to help Vegeta pull the rest of his pants down, toeing off his boots, lifting one leg while balancing on the other, repeating the motion, then kicking his pants away once they were off.

Then those hands were on him, right on his dick. Hands that knew him well after a year and a half together. Hands that knew what to do, and Goku moaned into their kiss, moving into the rhythm of Vegeta’s talented hands. Gentle fingers stroked him, petted him, thumbed the head of his cock. Knowing fingers ran along the underside, over the top, down to his balls. Warm fingers that played with his balls, circled them, tickled them, cupped them, gave them the tiniest of squeezes and the softest of pulls, and Goku felt his breathing and his heart speed up at the same time, felt his dick twitch, felt his whole body shiver despite the heat between them and the heat of the room and the warm night sky, and he poured all of his want, his desire, his own _lust_ through the r’bhon’or to let Vegeta know he liked this, he wanted this and he needed this. Needed him.

Vegeta pulled away from their kiss, only to attach his tongue and lips to Goku’s earlobe. He sucked it into his mouth, lapped at it, nibbled on it, all the while, his hands never stopped their work, never stopped stroking, never stopped petting. Without Vegeta there to muffle his sounds, Goku leaned into Vegeta and groaned loud, his hips thrusting up into the rhythm Vegeta made, his hands absentmindedly sliding into Vegeta’s long mane of hair and pulling hard, pushing him closer, trying to get closer, trying to feel more, do more, need more— _Vegeta please_ —

_Soon, Kakarot._

It was so faint, so very small, Goku thought it was a whisper. But Vegeta was still sucking on his ear. He hadn’t moved away. His heart seized, his breath catching as he realized what had happened again, what Vegeta did, and he cried out, the thrusting of his hips turning more erratic.

“V-Vegeta,” he whimpered, clawing his nails through Vegeta’s scalp. “Oh gods, Vegeta.”

That mouth left his ear and attached itself right to his neck, right where Vegeta had placed that gel liquid earlier in the ceremony. Goku pushed his neck into that mouth, pushed Vegeta’s head more into that place, and without thought, he lifted one of his legs off the ground to wrap it around one of Vegeta’s hips, digging the heel of his foot into Vegeta’s ass cheek.

The room spun again when Vegeta reached down with one hand and grabbed his knee, lifting the other leg off the ground. Goku helped along the way, wrapping it around Vegeta’s other hip, hooking his ankles together. He moaned, staring at the moving black sky, the stars above, the waving tree branches and its leaves as Vegeta licked his neck, sucked on it, traced his tongue on his skin, all the while, carrying him easily to that large bed in the middle of the room.

Then the moon appeared as Vegeta laid him right in the middle of the bed. It framed his face as he pulled away from Goku’s neck and knelt on either side of Goku’s body, one hand carding through Goku’s sweaty hair while the other gently stroked his cock. He could see the love and the lust on his face, felt it strong through the r’bhon’or, the moonlight above matching their umoya’ir that still glowed around them both. But he also saw and felt the admiration, the pride, and gratefulness—for this, for him, for this moment—and it made Goku smile, made him feel safe and needed and wanted, and he pulled Vegeta down for another kiss, one that was less desperate and more sweet, more languid.

This was the part where either they blew each other, jerked each other off, or straight-up stopped. Vegeta never pushed him forward into anything. He taught Goku many things, showed him what to do, told him it was more than okay to talk during sex because it was essential to know what your partner was thinking and feeling, and over time, Goku felt more secure, more relaxed, more confident in what he felt and in what he was doing. Vegeta always put himself second, never first. Always reminded Goku he could say no. Always told him he could put a stop to this at any time. Sometimes, Goku did, and Vegeta always comforted him and said he was proud of him. Sometimes, Goku didn’t, and Vegeta always double checked to make sure it was really what he wanted, and the gesture never failed to make his insides melt and his heart skip a beat or two.

Not tonight. He needed Vegeta. He needed this man—mind, body and soul.

Goku slowly ended their kiss. When he pulled away, he looked right at Vegeta above him and said, “Have sex with me.”

Vegeta smirked. “That’s the plan, yes.”

He smiled back, suddenly shy. But he didn’t look away. He refused, blatantly ignoring the blush he felt blossoming across his cheeks. “Not like before. Like...well.” He looked down, past his own dick between the two of them, back up to Vegeta’s face. “Y’know.”

“I don’t.”

“ _Y’know_.” He swallowed against his dry throat, drifting his gaze back down to the point where Vegeta’s hand was, moving up and down his dick. “That thing you do… down there, with your finger?” He felt and saw his dick twitch at the memory of that amazing feeling. “You usually stop around here but...” He slowly rolled his eyes back up to Vegeta and said, “Could you please put it in me tonight?”

Vegeta’s wide-eyed stare and slack-jawed mouth almost made him giggle. Almost, because the slight nervousness he felt won out.

The hand on his cock stilled its movement. It moved away to rest on one of Goku’s hip dents.

Goku sucked in a corner of his bottom lip and bit down. Waiting for something. Anything.

But Vegeta… did nothing. Said nothing. He was frozen.

Then, Vegeta frowned.

“Kakarot,” Vegeta said, enunciating each word slowly, “I’ll do it, but you will _not_ be quiet through this. Got it? You _will_ tell me when something is wrong, and you _will_ tell me to stop whenever you want.”

Goku nodded, all nervousness dying off after hearing Vegeta’s reaction. Now it was a different kind of nervousness, a growing itch of curiosity and a deep need to feel that pleasure, feel Vegeta do that to him, explore the unknown with him.

He leaned up onto his forearms to watch Vegeta stand away from the bed, divesting himself of all his clothes. His dick twitched and he itched to touch it as he watched his prince strip the royal clothing piece by piece to the ground, until he was naked too. It was a sight Goku came to love seeing and enjoying, but now it was extra special, more intimate, after their ceremony. He wasn’t just Vegeta. He was his mate. His prince. His Vegeta, naked and hard, bathed in the light of the moon above and their umoya’ir.

To his surprise, Vegeta didn’t come immediately to the bed. Instead, he walked away from it to the table, and Goku rolled onto his side to watch him. On the table, Goku made out a few books, some vials and glass bottles and vases full of liquids and gels and other things he had no idea about. There were some other items too there, things he had never seen before, but that didn’t matter now. Vegeta picked up one of those vials full of a colorless liquid and then turned, walking back to the bed.

As he walked over, Vegeta said, “Scoot down.”

“Huh?”

“It’s better this way. Bring your legs over the edge of the bed.”

Goku frowned. He scooted himself towards the end, following what Vegeta asked. His feet touched the ground, his ass right on the edge. Still leaning on his forearms, he asked, “Like this?”

“Aiii. Thank you.”

Then Vegeta knelt down onto the ground, swinging both of Goku’s legs up and over his shoulders, and there it was—that smirk. That _look_. The look Goku knew only Vegeta gave him and him alone. The one Vegeta knew drove Goku crazy, and it did. He heard his breath pick up, his face heat up, his heart speed up, his stomach cramped up, and he dug his fingers into the bed at the same time he sucked in his bottom lip completely and bit down.

Vegeta didn’t move. Didn’t look away. He heard the sound of a vial popping open and glass hitting the stone floor. He watched Vegeta’s bare hands rise up and land on top of his thighs, stroking the top, the hairs, skipping over to the insides, and Goku felt his balls draw up, felt his lower region cramp up with every tickle, every fingertips gliding over his skin.

His fingers dug into the bedspread when he watched Vegeta’s tongue dart out. Felt his lips part as he watched and felt Vegeta’s tongue lick slowly, very slowly, up his inner left thigh, leaving a trail of glistening saliva in his wake. His legs went taut as he gasped, the sight of Vegeta’s tongue and nose burying themselves so close, so _damned_ close to his balls, almost made him whimper.

That whimper released when he watched Vegeta’s talented tongue and lips move towards the center of his body, hot breath on his balls. His eyes fluttered and his toes curled when he felt that tongue on one of his sacs. A gentle touch. A barely-there lick. Then another. Another, to the other sac. And another. He rolled his ankles before tightening up his legs again straight as a line, his fingers twisting into the bed, as that tongue and those lips worried the area that Vegeta _knew_ he liked. An area of his body Goku had no idea he would like so much, until Vegeta.

Tongue, beneath his ball sack. Tongue and lips, kissing the perineum. One of Vegeta’s hands disappeared from view—Goku felt his ass clench a little in excitement—and he moaned hard when he felt a strong thumb press there, right there. Small circles. Very small, very tender circles. Intimately knowing him. What he liked. What he enjoyed.

All the while, Vegeta never looked away. He kept staring like a panther watching its prey in stalks of grass, waiting patiently. Enjoying.

Goku tried keeping his eyes open. Tried to not look away. But on one particular stroke of fingers there followed by Vegeta’s swiping tongue, he gave up, his head falling back as he moaned on top of his lungs, sinking into his shoulder blades.

A strong hand on his cock again. Goku moaned as it moved well, thumbing the tip, squeezing the base. Knowing him well, those gentle strokes, all in time with fingers on his perineum. He panted, his hips moving unconsciously, as soft kisses trailed down and up his thighs, to each of his balls, and Goku whimpered again, needing more, needing Vegeta to do it finally. To touch him there, finally.

No more heat on his crotch. He heard Vegeta say in a husky voice, “Lay back,” and he listened, flopping backwards, his arms falling by his sides.

No more fingers there either, and Goku ached to feel them again, to feel that pleasure again. He heard Vegeta say, “Hold the back of your knees for me,” and Goku drew his knees towards his chest, wrapping his large hands behind each one. Exposing himself to Vegeta.

Lips on the head of his dick. Goku sucked in his next breath, his head flopping to the side. Little licks. Gentle sucks. Teasing the head, only the head of his cock—and then he felt it. Two smooth, oily fingers, there. Right there, over his asshole. Against it. Circling. Not pressing. Just feeling. Getting to know the sensation, understand it, and soon, Goku did. It felt nice. Whenever Vegeta took those fingers away, he came back with them coated with more of that nice oil, and it was really good. Even when he would circle and then gently push against the ring of muscle, it felt good. It didn’t feel weird at all. It was okay.

Little by little, one of those oily fingers pressed in with each circle, going in deeper each and every time. Vegeta never shoved it in. Never forced it. He took his time with a precision and patience that only Vegeta would possess. He didn’t even notice when that finger was now coming all the way inside him. It never lingered long enough, but each time, he could feel Vegeta’s knuckle pressing up against his ass, signaling it was all the way in, and Goku blushed, realizing that he really, really liked this. He really, really enjoyed what Vegeta was doing to him.

He peeked his eyes open to see Vegeta and he found him no longer leaning on the ground but crouched on the edge of the bed, his eyes hidden by his bangs, his head bobbing up and down in a smooth motion, in time with the elbow and arm Goku could see moving between his legs. He gripped his own knees harder, tried to bring them closer to his chest, tried to open them wider, and his breath hitched at the sight of Vegeta’s animalistic stare peering right at him through his black bangs.

The pleasure built, a slow burn that had the potential to explode like an inferno, and he wanted it. He needed it. He wanted this man, his mah’kha, his prince, and he sent that need over the r’bhon’or, that lust, that desire for him, for this. _So good,_ he thought, moving his hips to Vegeta’s rhythm, _please, more, please Vegeta, it’s so good_ , and he hoped he’d hear his voice again, hoped this would work—

_I’m glad._

“Oh gods,” he gasped, arching his lower back, his eyes fluttering shut. He squeezed his knees tight, his hips thrusting down every time Vegeta’s finger came back inside him—and then it stopped leaving him, it stayed there, it moved with him. “V-Vegeta…” He thrusted in time with that finger, with Vegeta, his head lolling to the other side. “Vegeta…” Sweat trickled down his brow, the side of his jaw, dripped a little into his parted mouth. “M’yo r’sha…” He panted hard, his own hot breath blowing back onto his face from the bedsheets, and he squeezed his eyes tighter, gasping, “M’yo v-ve’ho’ti…”

Lips moved from the head of his cock to the sides. Skipped down the ridged edge and up. Nose brushing against his pubic hairs. “M’yo mah’kha,” came that rumble, and Goku hissed at the sensation of that voice so close to his dick.

Then came a gentle kiss to the head of his dick, and Goku moaned, thrusting up to him, thrusting up against his finger. More kisses to his dick. Kisses to each of his hip dents. Kisses to the corners of his inner thighs. All the while, that finger never stopped moving, and neither did Goku.

Tongue against the underside of his dick. Curling. Sucking it into his mouth once, before going away. Goku felt his legs quiver, and he shook everywhere when Vegeta’s husky voice rumbled, “I like doing this to you. I like making you feel good.”

Goku nodded his head, rubbing his sweaty cheek against the sheets. “Y-You do. You always m-make me feel so good.”

“It’s all I want for you, m’yo mah’kha.” The finger inside soon had another. Two fingers now, two oiled fingers inside, and Vegeta whispered, “You deserve to feel this good.”

He whimpered as those two oily fingers took their time thrusting in and out, at the same time Vegeta flooded feelings of love, affection and pride over the r’bhon’or, causing his eyes to sting and his breath to hitch and turn wet. He tried to move faster, tried to show with his body how much he loved Vegeta, how much he wanted him. Vegeta sent over feelings of comfort and love in return, and Goku whimpered, his legs trembling in his grip. He almost growled every time those fingers left his body, sighed in happiness every time they returned with even more of that nice oil.

His face burned when on Vegeta’s next thrust, he heard a _squelch_ sound coming from down below. Embarrassment warred with arousal. He wanted to hide and yet he wanted more of that sound, more of that delicious feeling down there. And Vegeta gave it to him. He thrusted again, and again, and again, every _squelch_ and _shlick_ making Goku pant harder, thrust harder, need more, need it _now_.

Then, he felt the tips of those fingers curl just a little—

“ _AHHHH!_ ”

_Pleasure._

“ _Vegetaaaah!_ ”

His eyes blew wide open, staring at the night sky above.

Those fingers.

“Oh gods!”

They _rubbed_.

“Vegetaaaaah!”

White hot searing pleasure, right from his ass. From those fingers.

“Ahhhhhh!”

He arched his lower back. Thrusted into those fingers.

“Oh gods Vege _taaaaaaaah!_ ”

The top of his head dug into the bed. He clung so hard to his knees, he could feel the bruises forming.

Then those fingers rubbed just _right,_ and he whined on top of his lungs, his upper body clearing the bed, his chin hitting his chest. Pleasure, too much pleasure, white hot fire, those fingers, that—all of this—

He released almost a guttural growl of “Fuuuuck!” He fought for his next breath, and his next, and the one after that, as his ass pulsed, those fingers _moved_ , Vegeta’s lips touched his dick, and he chanted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck—!_ ” One of his legs slipped out of his sweaty grip and he flung that sweaty palm over his mouth, shouting a very muffled, “Fuuuuuck!”

So much pleasure. Too much. Heat. Tongues. Those _fingers._ Lips. Hot breath. Talented tongue. Fingers roaming over him, above him, inside of him, and Goku whimpered, cried out, panted, flat out squealed behind his muffled palm. His head shook side to side as the pleasure built higher, reaching to a place so close, so very close—

Then the fingers stopped moving as fast. They didn’t leave, but they weren’t thrusting as much as before.

Fingers touched the top of his palm, the one over his mouth. “Don’t,” Vegeta whispered, and Goku opened his blurry eyes to see his face. He found a loving smile and those dark eyes looking right at him, eyes that twinkled like the stars above them. “Let me hear you.”

His heart seized. Goku let Vegeta pull his hand away, let him guide his hand back to its place behind his thigh. He watched Vegeta roam that free hand down his heaving sternum, over his abs, the slight swell of his lower belly, and then wrap strong, knowing fingers around his red cock, the head purple and leaking precum fluid from the tip down the sides.

Goku regained a better grip over both of the back of his knees, drawing them a little higher, pressing his lower back deeper into the bed. He panted, licked his lips, tried to form words, but all he could do was moan and pant desperately for air. All he felt was that pleasure, the fire inside, the burn coming right from Vegeta’s fingers, Vegeta’s strong hand around his cock. All he saw was his Vegeta, smiling at him, watching him with those knowing, loving eyes, looming over him like a predator but he wasn’t afraid. He had no fear. Not with the feelings of love and affection coming over their r’bhon’or. Not when he could see their umoya’ir glowing like that.

Not when he could hear the very faint whisper of Vegeta’s voice in his head, echoing, ricocheting in the depths of his mind—a sweet brush of a Sadalan word that made Goku whimper.

Kho’lisa.

_Beautiful._

“V-Vegeta…” He moaned, moving with Vegeta’s fingers as the burn ignited, transforming into a roaring inferno inside. “Oh f-fuck…” He thrusted down with each thrust up, panting in time with his movements inside, the strokes to his cock. “S-So good.” The bed squeaked. Sweat dripped down the sides of his nose and neck. “It’s so good.”

Vegeta leaned down. “You deserve this, m’yo mah’kha.” He licked the tip of Goku’s cock at the same time he thrusted his fingers in, and Goku shivered, watching Vegeta do this to him, watching Vegeta lick his tip again, and again. Watched him whisper with the affection he brought over their r’bhon’or, “You deserve to feel this good.” His eyes stung as Goku felt the love that followed, the love, passion and desire, for _him_ , and it was all amplified with Vegeta’s next words: “I love doing this to you. I love knowing I’m the only one who can do this to you.” And as he descended upon Goku’s cock with his lips, Vegeta closed his eyes and whispered, “And I can’t wait for you to do the same to me.”

Goku gasped, arching up. Something uncoiled in his belly. Something hot and new and almost, _almost_ in reach. “Oh. Oh gods.” He stared up at the stars above, unable to look at Vegeta bobbing his head up and down on his dick. This pleasure. This man. “Oh shit. Oh fuck, Vegeta.” The idea of giving him this, of doing to him what Vegeta was doing now—and Goku keened, whimpered, cried out, as that pleasure reached so close to the pinnacle, so damn close, and he thrusted faster, the bed shook more, the sky above him shook too, he shook everywhere, and a stream of mindless words spilled out of him: “Oh gods, oh shit, Vegeta, m’yo ve’ho’ti, m’yo mah’kha, m’eh t’sha au, m’eh t’sha au m’yo ve’hoti, oh gods, fuck, shit, ahhh—” And he gasped as he felt something new, something wonderful and scary and _so damn close_ —"I, I think I’m gonna, gonna—”

Love. Affection. Desire. Thankfulness. Pride.

Vegeta inside him. Vegeta around him.

Vegeta’s very soft whisper resonated in his mind.

_Let me see you come, m’yo mah’kha._

His body _erupted_.

“ _Vegetaaaaaahhhh!_ ”

A blanket of white washed over him. No more sky above him. Just pure white. Goku heard his own screams and whimpers and mews, felt his throat turn raw, how his neck strained and the top of his forehead pressed painful into the mattress. How his body convulsed, his hands clawing into the thin skin of his knees, the pain anchoring him down to reality. His legs twitched uncontrollably, his toes and feet pointing, his whole body alive and burning, and he felt his eyes sting, his lips twisting and snarling, and it didn’t seem to end. It wasn’t ending. It wasn’t stopping. This blissful nothingness rushed through him like nothing ever before, nothing like this, and he succumbed to it, because through it all, he could feel Vegeta there, his emotions, his love, his comfort, and he latched onto it for dear life.

Then it went away, fading to darkness. Blissful, safe darkness.

He floated in that darkness like he was floating on his back in a warm, calm ocean.

In the recesses of his mind, he could feel his body tingling, his limbs twitching here and there. He could feel his hands flop to the side, could feel gentle hands straightening his legs out one at a time.

A dip in the bed beside him. Gentle brushes. Soothing. Petting. Feelings of love and affection and thankfulness. Feelings of joy and wonder.

The darkness then added specks of white stars above. Stars that outlined Vegeta, above him, smiling down at him. Brushing his fingers over Goku’s cheek. Tracing the line of his jaw. Tickling over his forehead. That loving look with hooded lids. That small, sweet smile.

“M’yo kho’lisa mah’kha.”

Goku’s breath hitched, almost akin to a sob. He reached up a trembling hand to touch Vegeta’s face, and he watched Vegeta grab it, pressing the knuckles to his lips, watched him kiss those knuckles, all in time with the feelings over the r’bhon’or—and something inside him snapped.

Despite how weak and exhausted he felt, Goku found a semblance of strength and yanked Vegeta down and over him, forcing the man between his spread legs. He pressed his trembling palms to either side of Vegeta’s cheeks, kissing him hard and fast, because he could feel that resistance in Vegeta, could feel it over the r’bhon’or. The uncertainty, this doubt—that wasn’t right. That wasn’t what he wanted and needed.

When he felt Vegeta try to pull away, he forced his uncooperative, wobbly legs to wrap around Vegeta’s waist, squeezing his thighs around either side of his hips to hold him there. He tried deepening the kiss, tried finding Vegeta’s cock somehow by squirming around underneath him, tried to get it close to him—but Vegeta was stronger in that moment and yanked his head away, those hands landing over his and jerking them back.

“Stop.” Vegeta frowned down at him. “You don’t need to—”

“I want to,” he blurted out, squeezing Vegeta’s hands in his. “Please.” He thrusted himself up to Vegeta, bowing his lower back off the bed, squeezing his legs more around Vegeta’s hips. “I have to feel you inside me again.” His whole body wouldn’t stop shaking, and he didn’t care. He needed Vegeta to see this, to see what he did to him, what no one had ever done to him and no one ever would. “Please, my prince.” He knew he said the right thing when he saw those eyes darken, and he fought the blush rising on his cheeks, pushed down whatever stupid embarrassment he might feel saying those words, and he released them in a loud hoarse whisper: “Let me make you feel as good as you make me feel.” He pulled Vegeta’s hands back to his sweaty cheeks, pressing the palms down. “Show me how to love. Show me what I’ve been missing my whole life.”

“I will.” He closed his eyes as Vegeta leaned in. Soft lips captured his, and Goku let his hands leave Vegeta’s to wrap around Vegeta’s back, digging into the skin. Tongue met tongue, lips smacked in the air, and when Vegeta pulled away, he whispered over his lips, “For you, my Kakarot. Wait here.”

Goku reluctantly released his grip around Vegeta, watching him hop off the bed and walk to the table again, picking up a vial similar to the last one. His spent dick twitched, anticipating the feel of that oil back on his body, back inside him again. He licked his dry lips, watching Vegeta return to the bed, the moonlight from above casting the right amount of shadows on his sculpted body, glowing like the manifestation of the moon above, and Goku spread his legs on the bed just a little wider for him, his hands running down his torso, fingers skipping over his sensitive nipples.

Despite how in control Vegeta looked, Goku felt over the r’bhon’or his spike of lust and desire for him. He did the same thing as before, petting his own chest, fingering his nipples slowly, and he moaned, tilting his hips up to him, and he smiled as Vegeta shuddered, watching Vegeta’s dick twitch, precum leaking from the tip. He drew up his knees back to his chest as before, reaching for the place behind his knees, but Vegeta stopped him, crawling between his legs to throw both knees over his shoulders.

He felt his hips clear off the bed this way and he let Vegeta lean over him, let him hold his hips, let him kiss his cheeks, his lips, the side of his neck. A pop of a vial opening again, and Goku wrapped his arms around Vegeta’s back, holding on, digging his fingers into the flesh without needing to hold back for once. Then those oily fingers returned and his lips curled into a big smile. Goku sighed when they pressed in again, swirling around, delving in, scissoring a little here and there, and he shuddered at the _squelch_ and the _shlick_ and the _squish_ from his own body. His dick sprung back to life with each thrust of those fingers inside, the heat of Vegeta’s breath on his neck, the sensation of Vegeta’s lips and tongue licking up and down the juncture of his neck, and he shook everywhere when those fingers hit that spot again, that amazing pleasure returning.

Then they slid out. He heard a _shick slick shlick_ sound against hard flesh. Oily hands cupped the sides of his hips. Vegeta pressed one last kiss to his neck and leaned back to look him right in the eye, and all Goku saw were dark, hooded lids, as dark as the sky that framed his face. He glowed like the stars above, glowed like the moon, and Goku etched the moment into his memory forever when Vegeta whispered, in Sadalan:

“M’eh t’sha au, m’yo Kakarotto.”

He didn’t get to respond. Goku gasped instead at the pressure down below. A gentle pressure. Like the fingers, but bigger. Wider. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel weird. Foreign. Something not normal. He didn’t resist it. It truly didn’t hurt. It was okay. He felt Vegeta’s emotions filter through their r’bhon’or—feelings of love, comfort, worry, doubt, fear—and he felt Vegeta stop for a moment, having never looked away from him.

Sweat on Vegeta’s brow. Sweat trickling down the middle of his sharp nose. Parted lips. Vegeta’s harsh breathing. His red cheeks. The worry on his face. The arousal too.

Slowly, Vegeta pulled a little bit out, and a little bit in. Tiny thrusts. Tiny movements.

Goku gasped with each one. It didn’t hurt. It slowly started to feel nice. Feel good. Not weird. There was a stretch, a burn, each push, each thrust opening him up more, and Goku blushed, because it really, really felt good. It really felt nice, and Vegeta was going so slow, pausing here and there so he could get used to it, and he did. He was getting used to it.

Then on the next thrust, Vegeta’s hips pressed flushed against his. Felt Vegeta’s balls against his ass. Felt his cock, inside, pulsing. And it hit Goku then: he was in, all the way. Vegeta was all the way inside him. Vegeta was actually inside him, and it didn’t hurt. All he felt was a pressure and the feelings of how new and weird and foreign this was, but that was it. Vegeta was inside, and it didn’t hurt at all.

He felt over the r’bhon’or Vegeta’s fear and doubt, and he soothed it with his feelings of lust and need. He added to it with a kiss to Vegeta’s parted lips, and out of curiosity, he ventured a small squeeze around Vegeta’s dick inside him.

Vegeta’s sharp gasp and long, loud moan was all Goku needed to feel perfectly fine with this. He slid a hand up to Vegeta’s hair, pulling him down into a kiss, and he did it again, smiling when he felt Vegeta’s fingers bruise his hips, his body shaking everywhere between his open legs. He did this to Vegeta. He was the only one who could make him feel like this, act like this, and it emboldened Goku to relax even more than he already felt.

With one last chaste kiss, Goku laid back and said, “I’m ready.”

Vegeta simply nodded.

He started slow. Long, drawn out thrusts to his body, coming in and out, and Goku shivered, a grin spread across his face. He flopped his head to the side, letting himself give in to this, to Vegeta. He loved feeling Vegeta inside him, loved every smooth thrust, every push and pull. He sighed on one particular hard thrust in, gasped on a particular hard thrust out, and he felt the pleasure building once more as Vegeta began to pick up the pace.

Lips peppered kisses over his neck. That tongue licked his chest. Hands left his hips for his nipples, and Goku whined when Vegeta pulled and played with them the way Goku liked. Twisting each one. Flicking nails over each one. Pushing his pecs together and licking the middle of the mounds there, and Goku cried out when Vegeta took one into his mouth, sucking on it instantly. The dual pleasure of Vegeta fucking him while licking his tits—all he could think of was _perfect_ and _more_ and _yes_ —and it must’ve been heard over the r’bhon’or, because Vegeta didn’t stop. He kept going. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, leaned over more, bending Goku more, squeezing and pulling at one pec while he nibbled and licked the other until Goku was a howling mess.

Then he moved to the other side, nipping there, and Goku cried out as Vegeta _hit_ that place inside hard at the same time. He scratched his nails down Vegeta’s back, the other clinging hard to the back of his head, pushing Vegeta’s face into his pec. He thrusted in time with Vegeta’s hips, panted and grunted and hissed and whined as the pleasure came back with a vengeance, almost threatening to burn him from the inside out, and he wanted it. He wanted this. Vegeta gave him this, did this to him, and he needed it, he needed it again, needed everything, _please, more, give me more, I need it, I need you_ —

_I need you too._

“Oh gods, Vegeta.” He yanked at Vegeta’s hair to pull him away and when Vegeta did, Goku looked him in the eye, panting for air. “I l-love you.”

“I love you, Kakarot.”

“I love hearing y-you.” He saw Vegeta’s frown and Goku smiled. “In my head. I can hear you.”

The thrusting stopped. Goku almost whimpered, but the shock on Vegeta’s face stopped him cold. He tilted his head to the side, about to ask what was wrong, but Vegeta kissed him stupid, picking up the pace again with vigor.

Then he heard Vegeta in his head again, still the same whisper, but the words were loud and clear.

_I can too._

He let loose a laugh mixed with a sob in their messy, wet kiss. The r’bhon’or pulsed between them as did the pleasure. He kissed Vegeta back, sliding both of his hands into his sweaty hair, sucking on his tongue, pulling back to then let Vegeta do the same, and he gasped, moaned, felt the burn reach that crescendo again, so similar to the one before but less intense.

The bed shook. Goku shook. He could feel Vegeta trembling too, above him. Could feel and hear his hot, fast-paced breath. His sweaty skin. His hearbeat against his chest and his love for him over the r’bhon’or. He pulled away from the kiss to look at the man he loved and he cherished the sight of Vegeta looking lost in pleasure, staring at him like he was the only important thing in the universe, and Goku burned that into his memory as Vegeta spoke over the r’bhon’or.

_So tight. So perfect. My Kakarot._

He threw his head back and shut his eyes, crying on top of his lungs, “Vegetaaaaah!”

A strong hand wrapped around his cock, soft lips captured his.

Another whisper.

_Only you make me feel good, Kakarot. Only you make me whole._

He felt a cramp in his belly, a telltale sign he was so close, so damn close, and he dug his fingers into Vegeta’s scalp, whispering back, _you too, you make me whole too, you make me feel so good—_

Vegeta sped up his hand, in time with his thrusts, twisting his wrist just right.

“Ahhhhh!” Goku gasped for air at the spike of pleasure, the inferno ready to burst and he chased that feeling, reached for it, desperate, needy, needing this, needing Vegeta to _please, Vegeta, my mate, my prince, so close, I’m so close—_

Then Vegeta captured his lips in his.

The whisper over the r’bhon’or was enough to set him off again.

_Let yourself come._

His orgasm exploded like the last one, but there was no whiteness blanketing him this time. In the darkness of his lids, he saw a kaleidoscope of colors burst like a supernova, his body quivering all over, his legs straighten taut in the air over Vegeta’s elbows, having falling somewhere off his shoulders at some time. Warm wetness jetted up his sternum, his stomach, over his sensitive cock, and he felt that same wetness too filling him up inside. Vegeta hissed and groaned into his mouth, growled and whined too, and Goku found pleasure at the sight and sounds of Vegeta coming inside him and above him, all because of him. Because of their coupling together.

He still trembled even after Vegeta collapsed on top of him and slid off to the side. It felt weird when he pulled his cock out and felt that wetness there, but it was okay enough. Goku curled to Vegeta’s side, resting a hand on top of his sweaty chest, and he smiled when Vegeta rested a hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers.

For a while, they said nothing. Only their heavy breathing and soft pants filled up the silence of the room. Goku felt Vegeta’s heartbeat start to calm almost at the same time his own did. Soon, their breathing returned to normal, and Goku yawned, snuggling up more to Vegeta’s side.

Then Vegeta started to roll away. Goku frowned, ready to protest, but Vegeta kissed his hand and said, “Let me clean us up.” He nodded and watched him return to the table, where there was a sink and some hand towels there that clearly weren’t there before. Goku chuckled—Kohltavi’s work clearly—and he smiled as Vegeta returned with a warm wet wash cloth.

It felt nice, having Vegeta clean him. He returned the favor, taking his time cleaning the oil and cum off Vegeta’s stomach and softening dick, before handing it back to him, and Vegeta thanked him with a chaste kiss to the lips. He chuckled when Vegeta just threw the towel off the bed and pulled Goku in to his chest, wrapping an arm around his side. Goku sighed into the warm skin there, his eyes suddenly heavy, his body exhausted.

He moved around to help Vegeta pull the bedsheets down and around the two of them before snuggling back up to Vegeta’s chest, wrapping his own arm around Vegeta’s waist. The cool pillows and the cool sheets felt good and soft and needed, the silk nice against his skin. So did the sound of Vegeta’s tempered breathing and gentle heartbeat against his ear.

Soft fingers ran down his cheek, over the side of his jawline. At his chin, they tilted his head up, and Goku felt Vegeta’s lips fall over his in one last kiss.

He smiled at Vegeta’s whisper over the r’bhon’or. _Sleep, m’yo mah’kha. I will be here._

Goku responded in kind over the r’bhon’or. _I know you will._

Their umoya’ir didn’t lessen in its glow since they arrived, but it surprisingly wasn’t distracting. Goku easily succumbed to sleep, listening to Vegeta’s breathing, one of his hands pressed against Vegeta’s heart. Soon after, Vegeta passed out too, one arm wrapped tight around Goku’s waist, the other underneath the very large pillow they shared.

Above them, the Sadalan moon shined on, its silver light centering right onto their bed. In sleep, neither one drifted away from each other. They stayed close, skin to skin, side by side—one entity, one body, one soul—the rest of the night into the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on Tumblr! I'm dulcineawrites there.
> 
> Credit for Soli and Tor goes to Vakaara!


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